Ludwig and Matilda: A Love Story
by LuvvyDuck
Summary: Inspired by Don Rosa's comics, a possible story of Ludwig von Drake and Matilda McDuck's marriage. The Von Drake you never knew. NOTE: PLEASE READ UPDATED PROFILE ABOUT MY STORIES.
1. Prologue: Bittersweet Memories

**_Ludwig and Matilda:__  
A Love Story_**

A _Ducktales _Fanfic by LuvvyDuck (E. Grimes)

_Disclaimer_: Characters of Ludwig von Drake, Scrooge and Matilda McDuck, and the rest of the Disney  
Ducks are the sole copyrights of the Walt Disney Co. _The Life and Times of Scrooge McDuck_ is (c) by  
Don Rosa and by Gemstone Publishing. This story, which is _my own _copyright and may not be used  
without permission, is written only in the spirit of fandom and with all due respect to the original  
copyright owners. (In other words, thanks for not sueing me! ---**_LuvvyDuck_**)

_**Author's Note:**_

This story was inspired by the works of Don Rosa. His famous concept of Ludwig Von Drake's marriage to Matilda McDuck, Scrooge's  
sister, never actually made it to the comics---so this is only a possible story of how it happened. Thanks to Rosa's _The Life and Times _  
_of Scrooge McDuck_ I had plenty of reference material, but I'm also drawing from bits of _Walt Disney's Wonderful World of Color_ and tiny  
bits of _Ducktales _(though technically this should either be in the Disney section or the Comics category). Because certain parts of this  
story will require it, I had to move up Don Rosa's timeline by a decade or more to synch in more with the _WDWWC _and _Ducktales  
_timelines, so that Ludwig and Matilda are somewhat younger when they meet up). However, I'll be as faithful as possible to Don  
Rosa's works, and I hope he and his fans will forgive any liberties I take in these chapters.

If some of this story doesn't seem to make much sense, it'll all come together in the chapters to follow.

* * *

**_Prologue:  
Bittersweet Memories  
_**

"Are you kids _sure_ you want to stop off here?" Donald asked as he was driving Huey, Dewey and Louie to Professor Ludwig Von Drake's residence.

"Well, yeah, Uncle Donald," Huey replied. "He said he's got lots of old stuff for our Junior Woodchucks charity drive!"

"Whatcha worried about, Uncle Donald?" asked Dewey. "I thought you _liked_ Uncle Ludwig."

"He might be kinda weird, but he's pretty nice," put in Louie.

"Nice and _crazy_, you mean," Donald pointed out. "I love him, boys, but I sure don't like visiting his lab!" He shuddered as he remembered the horrific experiments the eccentric scientist had tried on him in the past.

"Well, if _he's_ crazy, Uncle Donald, it's a wonder _you_ and him don't get along better!" Huey joked as his brothers giggled.  
Donald glared back at them in his rear view mirror and muttered under his breath.

The Junior Woodchucks were having a charity drive for a homeless shelter, and the triplets were collecting used clothing and household items from as many relatives and family friends as they could. Not surprisingly, Scrooge McDuck refused to cough up more than some faded cuff links and a couple of ratty old sweaters; Mrs. Vanderbeek, Webby, Daisy, Grandma Duck, Gyro Gearloose and even Gladstone Gander were far more generous. Professor Von Drake had promised to have a box of old clothing ready for the boys at his place, so they were on their way now to pick it up.

"I'll tell you what---why don't you kids just run in and get those things of Ludwig's, while I wait in the car?" Donald suggested anxiously as they pulled up to the place. But to his dismay, the professor had been watching for them at his window and now came running right up to the car.

"Allo dere, boys! Come into da lab!" he exclaimed happily in his thick Austrian accent. Before Donald had time to protest, Ludwig had yanked open the car door and was eagerly tugging his nephew's arm.

"Ah, we're just here for a few minutes, Uncle Ludwig," Donald stammered. "We'll just get that box of clothes and go…"

"Ach, nonsense, nephew! Dere's plenty a' time for a teensy liddle visit! Come into da house, boys," Ludwig told the triplets. "I gots milk an' nice hot cookies for ya. An' you too, Donald."

The minute they heard "cookies", Huey, Dewey and Louie gleefully helped the professor drag Donald into the house. "Please, Uncle Donald!  
Uncle Ludwig made _cookies_!" they insisted.

Their uncle rolled his eyes. "Oh, okay. But Ludwig, _no_ experiments on me, will you please?"

The professor blinked innocently. "Vat you mean, Donald? Dat last one weren't so bad…"

"You burned off my _tail feathers!_" snapped his nephew. Ludwig shrugged.

"I put da fire right out, yes? Now, alla you have a looksy around da lab, while I get da milk an' cookies."

As usual, the Von Drake lab was buzzing with activity. _Literally_ buzzing: Ludwig's latest experiment involved a makeshift beehive covered in glass, which stood close to his work table. Donald glanced uneasily at the large honeybees swarming through the hive, but the nephews  
were fascinated.

"This is a cool lab, Uncle Ludwig!" Louie declared as the professor brought in the refreshments.

"Why, t'ank you."

"Yeah, being a scientist must be a lotta fun!" Dewey supposed.

"How do you get to be one?" Huey asked with his beak full of cookie.

Always delighted to share his knowledge, Ludwig clutched the lapels of his lab coat with a proud grin. "Well, ya see boys---ya gots ta study real hard at school! Ya gots ta learn chemistry, physics, da arithmetic…"

_"Math?_ YUK!" cried the nephews in disgust.

"Maybe we'll just start a rock band?" suggested Huey. The professor chuckled.

"No matter what you boys wanna be," he advised firmly, "Ya gots ta stay in school an' learn your lessons—an' do da _homework!"_

"You're darn tootin'!" Donald added, with a stern glance at the triplets, who quickly decided to talk about something else.

"What's that you're working on, Uncle Ludwig?" Louie questioned, pointing at the beehive.

"Oh, _dat?"_ Ludwig answered excitedly. "Glad ya asked, boys—I'm inventin' a cure for _bee stings_!"

"Oh?" Donald asked dubiously. He could just about predict where _this_ was going.

"Bee stings?" repeated Dewey. "Uncle Donald got stung by a bunch of bees last summer…"

"Yeah, remember that, Uncle Donald?" Huey added. "We were out on that picnic with Aunt Daisy, and you knocked down  
that beehive…"

"Yeah, yeah, yeah! Let's change the subject, okay?" begged Donald, who broke out in a cold sweat at the gleam in Ludwig's  
eye---a gleam that always made Donald wonder: _How's Ludwig going to torture me **this** time?_

"Ha! Not a problem, boys!" commented the professor, blissfully unaware of the panic he was causing his nephew. "Da Professor  
will find a cure for dat, don't you worry. Off course," he added thoughtfully, "I will need someone for to _test_ it—ah, Donald?"

"Sorry, Ludwig, we gotta go now!" cried Donald, jumping up hastily. "Didn't you tell us yesterday you've got a box  
of old stuff for the kids?"

"Oh _ja, ja._ Dey're in mine room. Can you kiddies get it? I gots a lotta stuffs to do right here," Ludwig declared, with some disappointment  
that his "guinea pig" was rushing off so soon.

"Okay, thanks!" answered the triplets as they ran off to the professor's room, leaving Donald at his nutty uncle's mercy.

"Don't be such a scarey-dy cat, Donald!" Ludwig reproved good-naturedly. "I only mean vell. I vouldn't want you ta help  
me if I didn't like you!"

"I suppose," sighed Donald. After all, for all his crazy (and often exasperating) behavior, Ludwig had a kind heart and _did_ have only  
the best motives in mind. He had married Scrooge McDuck's sister, Matilda, years ago; but they had never had children, so Ludwig  
quickly adopted his wife's relatives. It was, in fact, his particular affection for Donald that made the hapless duck the object of his  
uncle's disastrous experiments. _If he just didn't nearly **kill** me all the time,_ brooded Donald.

Meanwhile Huey, Dewey and Louie were searching around Ludwig's room for the box of old clothes he was donating.

"Wow," Louie said, laughing, "Uncle Ludwig's room is even messier than _ours _!"

"Yeah. Why doesn't Uncle Donald like visiting him?" wondered Huey. "The Professor's a pretty cool guy."

"Even if he _is_ kinda nutty," finished Dewey. "Hey, is that the box, fellas?"

He pointed to a large pasteboard box sitting in the closet; but his brothers saw a similar box at the foot of Ludwig's bed.  
"It's probably this one," Louie said.

But Dewey had noticed a piece of a woman's scarf peeking out of the box in the closet. "It's gotta be _this_ one, guys. That's  
a _lady's _scarf. Uncle Ludwig wouldn't wear that, would he?"

"He can't be _that_ nutty," Huey insisted. "That's gotta be the box, then."

"Hey, will you kids hurry up?" Donald called nervously.

"Comin', Uncle Donald!" they called back, picking up the box and carrying it out as carefully as they could; but they still managed to  
drop it on their uncle's foot.

_"Owwwww!"_ Donald yelped, tilting the box to get loose. "Let me have that thing, you guys!"

Nobody noticed a small object falling from the box as Donald struggled with it.

"Oh, Donald…is you sure you can't help me out wit' my liddle experiment?" wheedled Ludwig.

"Sorry, Ludwig—we've gotta run!" replied his nephew, with one last frightened glance at the beehive. "Come on, boys—say 'bye  
and thank you to your Uncle Ludwig!"

"G'bye, Uncle Ludwig!"

"Thanks for the old clothes…"

"…and the milk and cookies!"

Ludwig followed them to the door and waved. "All righty, boys. T'anks for stopping by, an' please come an' see da Professor again!"

He closed his door with a sigh. "Why can't dey haf stayed just a bit longer?" he said wistfully. "Well, back ta work."

As he started to walk back to his lab, Ludwig almost stepped on something lying in the middle of the room.

"Hmm? What can dat be…?" he muttered, frowning slightly as he picked up a small cloth flower. He adjusted his spectacles to look  
at it more closely, but gave a painful gasp when he recognized what it was.

_"Gott im Himmel!"_ he cried. "No, no...it can't be..."

It was a lavender-colored silk daisy that Matilda had once worn in her hair. When she died some years back, Ludwig put several  
of her old clothes and various other keepsakes into a box to be stored away. He had not opened that box in a very great while,  
and had not given it any thought when he sent the triplets to fetch that other box of old clothes. Hoping he was somehow mistaken,  
the professor rushed to his room, only to find his fears confirmed: absent-minded as usual, he'd been so preoccupied with his work  
that he had given Donald and the boys _the wrong box._

Hoping to catch them before they left, Ludwig raced to the door and jerked it open--just in time to see Donald's car zipping down  
the street.

_"Wait, wait!"_ he called frantically, but the four were already out of sight and sound. He hurried to the telephone, thinking he might  
catch Donald on his cell before they all got to the thrift store.

"Please, Donald…_please_, pick up!" he begged, his heart pounding at the horrible mistake he had made.

Unfortunately, Donald's cell phone was off. It would have done no good to leave a message on his home phone; by the time he and  
the triplets returned, the precious mementos of Ludwig and Matilda's marriage would be…God knows where.

Sadly, the professor hung up and slunk into his room, staring helplessly at the now-empty space in his closet. "What haf I done?"  
he moaned.

Not knowing who else to turn to, he picked up his bedside phone and called Scrooge. The multi-millionaire duck happened to be in  
his favorite spot—his money bin—when Ludwig called.

_"Nine-thousand, nine-hundred and ninety-eight, nine-thousand, nine hundred and ninety-nine…"_ Scrooge was counting  
happily, when his cell phone rang.

"Burst me bagpipes!" he growled. "Can't a man count his money in peace?"

He was naturally cranky when anyone interrupted his privacy (_especially_ if it was a relative). Yet he and Ludwig got along reasonably  
well, though Scrooge was often dubious about his brother-in-law's visits or phone calls--wondering, like Donald, what psychotic thing  
the professor was up to _this_ time.

"Och, it's _you_, Ludwig," he sighed, raising up a martyred glance. "What is it now?"

He was surprised at the desperate and distressed tone on the other end; Ludwig usually spoke quite cheerfully (unless he happened  
to be mad). But as Scrooge listened, he straightened up from his counting-table with a worried frown.

"Donald and the boys did _what?"_

"_Ach_, Scroogie, dey took away poor Matilda's things—_your sister's_ things!" came Ludwig's anguished voice.

"But...but how could that have happened? How _did_ it happen?" Scrooge demanded in horror.

"I…I just got a old box of clothes an' things for da boys, for dat charity t'ing. I was busy in mine lab an' told dem, 'go get da box'. I  
didn't think dey'd get da wrong one!" the professor stammered. He shook his head in despair. "Oh, Scroogie…mine an' Matilda's  
love letters, our wedding pictures, everyt'ing I had from mine poor wife…dey're gone, Scroogie, _gone_! Please, you got to stop  
Donald an' da boys from giving dose t'ings away!"

"Now ye've got to calm down, Ludwig," Scrooge said firmly. "I'll go out and look for them right now!"

"Oh t'ank you…t'ank you!" At this point, Ludwig was in tears. "Oh Scroogie, it iss all mine fault…I am sorry...I am _so_ sorry!"

"It's all right, Ludwig. I promise, I'll look to this. Now get ye a cup o' tea and rest yourself, for the love of Heaven."

Scrooge could hardly blame Ludwig for being so upset—he was fairly sick himself about the possible loss of his sister's things. But  
years of hard work and hard times had taught the last of the Clan McDuck that it was _action_, not emotion, that would take care of  
the problem.

-----------------------------

Donald and the triplets had dropped the items off at the thrift store and were on their way back when Scrooge's limo  
pulled up, and a stern-faced Scrooge McDuck motioned out the window for Donald to stop and pull over.

"What's wrong?" Donald asked, as Scrooge walked quickly over to the car.

"Did ye joost get back from that thrift shop?" Scrooge demanded.

"Well, yeah…"

"Then ye're goin' _right_ back!"

Donald blinked stupidly. "What for?" he asked, with surprise at the anger and anxiety in his uncle's face.

"Joost drive, nephew!" barked Scrooge, climbing into the passenger's side. "I'll tell ye on the way—and _step on it!"_

"What's the matter, Uncle Scrooge?" Huey wanted to know.

As Scrooge told them exactly what was the matter, Donald's jaw dropped. The triplets had only known their Aunt Matilda a short time,  
but Donald definitely remembered her---and he was aghast that the boys had taken Ludwig's precious keepsakes.

"How could you kids do that?" he questioned sharply.

"But we didn't know, Uncle Donald," Dewey said weakly.

"We shoulda asked Uncle Ludwig what box to take…" finished Louie.

"Indeed. And ye should've gone _with_ them, Donald!" Scrooge pointed out. "Ludwig is very upset—the man was most near crying! It  
wouldn't surprise me if he took right to his bed over this." He sighed heavily and stared ahead of him. "_I_ could do without this meself."

The three boys were deeply troubled by their great uncle's mood; his frown was certainly nothing new to them, but there was a certain  
sadness in his eyes that told an old and sorrowful story all its own.

"We're sorry, Uncle Scrooge," they said meekly.

"I know ye are, boys," he answered them quietly. "Ye knew no better."

"We'll try to get Aunt Matilda's things back," Donald promised.

"We _will_ get those things back," declared Scrooge, "if I have to buy out the whole dratted store!"

* * *

Ludwig sat huddled up on his sofa, bewildered and heartbroken. He had brewed some chamomile tea to calm him, but  
could only take a few weak sips. Not surprisingly, he had no appetite for dinner.

He was sick—literally _sick_—about the loss of his box; yet he didn't blame Donald or the triplets. They had only made an honest  
mistake; the fault, Ludwig was certain, had been his own.

"How could I haf let dat happen?" he asked himself miserably, as he gently fingered the faded silk flower.

His anxious mind could recount every keepsake in that lost box—even the tiniest reminder of the life he and Matilda had shared. Old  
love letters; an album filled with photos, some from their very own wedding. Hats and scarves that Matilda had once treasured; little  
trinkets that Ludwig had bought her. All of these things, and many others, that he'd shut up in that box after losing her. How long  
had these things lay hidden? Yet in only a few minutes, he had mindlessly given away the last relics of the only woman he had ever  
loved—or planned to ever love again.

With these thoughts haunting his mind, Ludwig nuzzled and kissed the silk daisy with tears running down his face. "Matilda, _liebling,"_  
he whispered, "please, forgive me…"

The doorbell rang and nearly scared the professor out of his wits. He stared anxiously at the door, wishing that whoever it was  
would just go away. But his heart lifted at the sound of his nephew's voice.

"Ludwig?" called Donald. "Are you home?"

Praying that it was good news, Ludwig ran to the door and flung it open. There stood Donald and the triplets, the precious box  
at their feet.

"We brought your stuff back, Uncle Ludwig," Huey announced.

"Yeah, Uncle Scrooge made us go back and get them," said Dewey. "We took him back home before we came here."

Ludwig felt as if a great weight had been lifted off of him. He staggered against the door out of sheer relief, and Donald quickly took  
the professor's arm to steady him.

"Are you okay?" he asked in concern; his uncle _did_ look like he had taken the situation pretty hard.

"Oh _ja, ja!"_ Ludwig cried joyfully. "T'ank you so much for bringin' dat back, boys!"

"We're really sorry, Uncle Ludwig," Louie told him. "We didn't mean to worry you like that."

"It iss okay, boys!" the professor insisted, laughing lightly as if the situation hadn't mattered.

"The people at the thrift store said they hadn't even gone through the box yet," Donald recalled, "but you might want to check and  
make sure everything's there."

"We'll go get that _other_ box, Uncle Ludwig," Huey offered, "but could you show us which one this time?"

But Ludwig now seemed very tired. "We do dat t'morrow, okay, boys?" he suggested. He was anxious to be alone, and for once  
didn't care to drag Donald into his lab for yet another frightful experiment. Of course, this puzzled his nephew; but he wasn't  
about to tempt fate.

"Are you _sure_ you're all right, Ludwig?" he asked, seeing his uncle's weary expression.

_"Ja._ I am just tired now, Donald," Ludwig answered with a weak smile. "Go, go now. I will see you all tomorrow."

He patted Donald and the boys' heads and urged them out of the house, then quickly shut the door behind them. The four of  
them stood on the porch, blinking in confusion and concern.

"Gee…Uncle Ludwig must _really_ be bummed out," Louie said.

"Yeah. He didn't ask us to stay this time," added Dewey.

_"Or_ offer us any more cookies," Huey finished glumly. "You think he's mad at us, Uncle Donald?"

Donald was just as stunned as they were. "He didn't act like it, boys, so I guess he's not. Maybe he just needs some time alone  
for awhile. Anyway," he continued, "let's get out of here, kids—before he changes his mind and yanks me into that lab again!"

As they all got back in the car, Donald glanced back at the Von Drake residence and shook his head—wondering if he would _ever_  
figure his eccentric uncle out.

* * *

Ludwig gawked at the box, wishing hed let Donald and the boys take it back to his bedroom. It was rather heavy and bulky for  
him to carry by himself, but he had wanted his privacy while checking through the contents. And _that_ was going to be the most  
difficult thing of all.

For some years he had not opened that box. He hadn't so much as looked at the things inside of it, for there was not a single  
article that didn't hold memories that were once beautiful...but were now painful. Ludwig had kept all these things stored away,  
for it had simply hurt him too much to even glance at them...yet the thought of losing them had hurt even more. He would have  
trusted his brother-in-law with them, but Scrooge was just as pained about the idea; he had his own share of sorrow and regret  
for his departed sister.

Telling himself that life—and his work—must both go on, he had carried on with his studies, his lectures, his inventions…and the  
tokens of his lost love had been pushed aside in his mind, just barely within his subconscious.

Until _now_.

But Ludwig's studies in psychology had taught him that he could not continue to bury his grief. Sooner or later, he realized, he  
would have to face the past---and the emotional demons it brought up.

One thing was certain; he couldn't do it in silence. Since classical music so often soothed him, Ludwig went over to his stereo  
and put on an opera record. Then he pushed the box over to the sofa and sat down with a tired sigh.

Did he _have_ to do this? Did he have to look again at objects that had once brought happiness, but could now only bring  
heartache---like the opening again of a grave?

_Yes_...he had to.

Ludwig's hands shook as he opened the box and hastily sifted through its items. Fortunately, everything seemed to be there, but  
he had to choke back a lump in his throat when he smelled a delicate perfume that still clung to one of Matilda's scarves. _Devon  
Violets_...it had been one of her favorite colognes. Matilda had always loved anything to do with flowers,and shortly after their  
wedding Ludwig had built a greenhouse and filled it with all sorts of flowering plants...for _her._

Quickly, Ludwig shoved the scarves to the bottom of the box, feeling that he had faced enough of the past for now; but as he did  
so, his hand touched something hard and leather-bound. He recognized it as an old photograph album, slightly yellowed with age  
but still in good condition. Reluctantly, the professor fished it out. It was filled with several family photos, including a few old pictures  
of his parents. Many of the pictures were of Ludwig and Matilda's wedding, and some that were made in the years that followed.

To go through that album, of all things, would be especially hard; but it was as if a voice in Ludwig's head kept saying: _Yes---you  
must look at **this**, too._

And as an overture from Wagner played softly from his stereo, Ludwig drew a shaky breath, and slowly opened the album to begin a bittersweet journey through the past…

_**  
End Chapter I  
**_

* * *

Looks like the "gothic writer" of fanfic has struck again. But this isn't all going to be heartbreaking—you'll find some very sweet moments  
in some of the chapters to come. And so you'll know LuvvyDuck isn't _all_ a rainy day, I'm hoping to do a funny story about Ludwig and  
Scrooge in the very near future! By the way, I submitted this to the _Ducktales_ category, though it follows the comics more than the show.  
The "Disney" category covers _way_ too much territory, and I didn't want this lost in the shuffle.

Note on Ludwig's accent--I tried to keep it softer than you often hear with him; but if he didn't have _some_ kind of accent, he just  
wouldn't be Ludwig von Drake. Anyhoo, hope you enjoyed, and please be patient about the remaining chapters!


	2. Faded Photographs

_**Ludwig and Matilda:  
A Love Story**_

A_ Ducktales _Fanfic

By LuvvyDuck (E. Grimes)

_Disclaimer:_ Ludwig von Drake and other Disney characters are (c) by Disney. _The Life and Times of Scrooge McDuck_ is  
copyrighted by Don Rosa, Disney and Gemstone Publishing. This story is (c) by _me. _Please don't copy it, link it or use  
it in any way without my absolute written okay. Thanks!

**_A/N:_** Once again, this story is inspired by Don Rosa's works, but updated to fit in with _The Wonderful World of Disney _  
and_ Ducktales_ timelines. Once again, Don Rosa fans, forgive me. A direct quote from _Lto$_ in this story, but it's with  
respect to Mr. Rosa's copyright.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------

_**  
Chapter II:  
Faded Photographs**_

As Ludwig began to go through his old family album, the first image that greeted him was an old, faded portrait from  
the late 19th century, showing a middle-class duck couple with their young son. The boy appeared to be a year old,  
and gazed shyly through a shock of long auburn hair.

The man looked somewhat like Ludwig had in his younger days, but had blond hair and wore a dark suit with an  
elegant pince-nez over his bill. He held the little boy on his lap and smiled tenderly at the child. The woman, obviously  
the man's wife, wore a long lace dress with her auburn hair attractively arranged. She sat straight and dignified, glancing  
slightly toward her husband with a rather stiff smile—as if wishing he would pay more attention to the camera.

A handwritten caption under the photo read, in German:

_Albert and Mina von Drake with Baby Ludwig  
Vienna, 1895  
_

Ludwig had to smile in spite of himself as he looked at the picture, remembering his parents and his early childhood in  
his native Austria…

* * *

Albert was a professional musician and taught music at the University of Vienna. A man of remarkable intelligence who  
was devoted to culture and the arts, he was also fascinated with science and technology. The ever-growing industrial  
age of his time fired his interests even further, and he spent many hours in his cellar trying to "invent" all sorts of things.

This singular hobby of Albert's annoyed his wife Mina, a prideful and rather bossy woman who scolded her husband for  
(as she thought it) wasting his time on "such utter nonsense". But young Ludwig deeply admired his father and was by  
his side often—whether in a box at the Vienna Opera or sitting at their grand piano, or watching Albert at his worktable.

From an early age, the littlest Von Drake showed astonishing intellectual gifts. He was extremely curious, bright at  
his studies, and eager to learn new things. He was, in fact, one of very few children who actually enjoyed going to school.  
It was much to Albert von Drake's pride and delight that his son shared both his intelligence and his interests. It was also  
clear that Ludwig saw his father as the role model for his life. Mina, on the other hand, wanted her son to something more  
"practical"---a doctor or lawyer, for instance.

Though of course he loved both his parents, it was little surprise that Ludwig was much closer to Albert, a kindly and  
humble soul with an idealism not made for his world. In such contrast was Mina's proud, hardheaded nature that people  
wondered how the two even got married. Yet they were both good parents and loved their son, and their traits would  
influence Ludwig for all of his life.

These traits included certain eccentric qualities, however (it _has _been said that all geniuses are mad), which sometimes  
gave Albert and Mina occasion to worry about their only child. Albert especially had to be concerned: Ludwig, anxious as  
always to imitate his father, was constantly working on some crazy idea or another; his odd experiments were almost  
always a disaster and often ended in injury. (This wouldn't exactly change when Ludwig grew up---except that his nephew  
Donald would usually be the victim.)

An especially harrowing time for the Von Drakes came at the turn of the 20th century. Albert's profession often had the  
family traveling, and they went to America, where they decided to stay for some time. The year was 1903; there had  
been stories going around of men inventing 'flying machines' and other such fantastic gadgets. These stories captured  
the particular interest of a certain Austrian duckling, and some months before the Wright Brothers made their own historic  
flight, there had been someone_ else _trying to fly: nine-year old Ludwig von Drake.

With a mind sharper than that of most boys his age (but apparently with a few screws loose), young Ludwig built a crude  
pair of "wings" and made several clumsy attempts to fly---from trees, cliffs and even a telegraph pole. Needless to say, he  
only succeeded in getting hurt; after his last attempt landed him in the hospital with a broken leg, his parents kept a strict  
watch on him---_and_ a lock on Albert's workshop.

It would be several years before the youngest Von Drake's dream of flight came true. When it did, his mother and father had  
all the more reason to worry, for Ludwig had now turned twenty and joined a flying corps---just in time for World War I.

* * *

Passing over several photographs from his growing-up years, the professor found one dated 1917. He chuckled as he saw  
himself in his pilot's uniform, standing proudly in front of an American biplane. He also cringed a little as he remembered how,  
during a dogfight over England, he had shot down five planes---from _his own __squadron. _There had been no one killed, thank  
God; but it turned out Ludwig was badly nearsighted, and that alone saved him from disgrace. Understandably, he was  
confined to ground for a short time, but his superiors gave him another chance—_after _they gave him a pair of strong  
eyeglasses.

But now another picture awaited Ludwig's attention---one taken years after he'd come home safely from the war and  
later returned to Austria. The professor had just managed a weak smile, but it crumbled when he turned to find this latest  
photograph.

The picture, dated 1930, showed Ludwig sitting in the coffee room of Vienna's famous Hotel Sacher. By then, the fluffy-haired  
boy inventor and the dashing WWI ace had evolved into a bookish university professor in his mid-thirties.

As Ludwig stared at it, tears came to his eyes and a familiar pain to his heart—for _here_ was the first of many images that would  
evoke the ghosts from his past...

--------------------------------------------

It began on a summer afternoon in Austria of 1930. Despite the recent Depression, Vienna was still a busy city, its Old World  
charm and romantic history drawing tourists from all over the world. One particular tourist would arrive there that day---and  
Fate would work to bring two lonely people together.

It was late afternoon as the restaurant staff of the Hotel Sacher went about their duties. A place as famous for its splendor  
as for its rich food and fine pastry, the Sacher was a favorite retreat of a certain eccentric professor.

"Here comes your little sweetheart, Greta," a waiter said teasingly to a stout waitress in her early fifties. Greta looked up  
from the table she was setting and grinned as a bespectacled duck wandered in with a thick book under his arm.

"Professor von Drake! _Wilkommen!_" she exclaimed, rushing over to him.

"Ach, hello dere, Greta!" Ludwig replied, with a bow and a charming smile. "And how are you, _meine liebe?"_

The waitress blushed and giggled as the professor delicately took her plump hand and kissed it. "I'm very well, Herr Professor.  
And how are _you?_"

"_Starving_," Ludwig said plaintively. "Can da poor Professor have some of your wonderful coffee and _Sachertorte_---mine sweet,  
beautiful Greta?"

"_Ja!"_ Greta answered, happily pinching Ludwig's cheek. "And with an extra lump of _Schlaggobers_ for _mein liebchen!"_

She led Von Drake into the coffee room and seated him, then went quickly to the kitchen—where she found the pastry cook  
shaking with laughter.

"No wonder he flirts, the way _you _pamper him!" he declared.

The waitress shrugged and laughed coquettishly. "But who can resist him, that lovely man? And how brainy he is! Look at  
him, so busy with his book—he's always studying."

"He wants to know more than everybody, that's why."

"Well, he certainly knows more than _me_," Greta insisted, "and I don't mind."

Ludwig was quite lost in his book until the fragrance of strong, dark Viennese coffee distracted him.

"T'ank you, _liebling_," he said sweetly as the waitress served the coffee and cake.

"And what is _Herr _Professor reading now?" Greta asked indulgently.

"Plato's _Republic_," Von Drake answered proudly as he held up the book. The waitress blinked, for the whole volume was  
written in Greek.

"_Himmel!_ You are so smart. You'll be a great man someday!" she marveled.

The professor chuckled. "I hope so, my dear," he remarked as he began eating his _Sachertorte_. Greta smiled at how  
quickly it was disappearing.

"And you will find a wife, _ja_? Someone to cook lots of nice things for my good Professor!" she continued, then suddenly  
glanced up. "_Ach_, more guests are coming! _Auf wiedersehen…_"

She patted Ludwig's shoulder and went back to her work. He watched her go with a little smile, but he sighed as he  
drank his coffee. He was rather relieved that he hadn't had time to answer Greta's comment about getting a wife; for  
all her kind thoughts, the good woman had struck a nerve.

Ludwig had given up any hope of marriage, or any kind of relationship, long ago. Not that he hadn't made _some _effort  
in his youth; back during the Great War, there had been a pretty barmaid over in France, but he'd only had a glass of  
wine with her---nothing really memorable came of that encounter.

Then after the war, things took a tragic turn in his life. In 1920, Albert von Drake was stricken with tuberculosis and  
passed away six months later. Ludwig was then faced with the double burden of losing his beloved father, and the fact  
that _he_ was now the man of the house. With a grieving mother to look after and his education to continue, he was too  
occupied with such matters to give much thought to romance. Even when he did, Ludwig wasn't sure girls were interested  
in him, anyway.

Meanwhile, his unquenchable desire to learn hadn't changed. To please his mother, he studied law and psychology; but  
even in death his father was the dominant force in his life, and Ludwig clung fiercely to his ideals. Not at all discouraged  
by his childhood accidents, he continued his experiments and inventions, the memories of his father's work ever at his  
elbow.

By 1924, mother and son returned to Austria, where Ludwig attended the University of Vienna. He was already well-schooled  
in science and the arts, with a degree in both and one in psychology. He eventually earned the title of professor, and became  
part of the University faculty. To his surprise and delight, his mother was proud of him—even though she still wished he had  
become a doctor.

But Mina von Drake died in 1928, and her son was left to sort out his life in the only way he knew best: by pursuing further  
studies. Aside from his own pet subjects, Ludwig insisted on helping to teach some of the other classes, to both the amusement  
of the students and the exasperation of his colleagues.

Perhaps it was Ludwig's brilliant mind and love of learning that made him so anxious to show off his knowledge. It might also  
have been his loneliness, or some insecurity from his childhood, that gave him the need to prove himself; or maybe, in the  
opinion of many who knew him, Ludwig was just plain crazy. Whatever the reason, the professor was intent on putting his  
fingers in most every intellectual "pie" and letting the world know exactly what was on his mind. But this man of learning,  
this man of letters, was meanwhile a man all alone in the world.

* * *

"_Wilkommen_,_ Fräulein!_" said the doorman of the Hotel Sacher as a lady duck came up with a large suitcase.

"Er…thank you," stammered Matilda McDuck, a pretty blonde in her early thirties. She walked slowly through the hotel lobby,  
glancing nervously around her and hoping that _somebody_ spoke English.

It had only been a short time since Matilda left the United States and the town of Duckburg. Since that last awful time she  
and her sister Hortense had seen their brother Scrooge---when he'd all but physically _thrown_ them out of his office building---  
Matilda hadn't really known what to do with herself.

She would never forget that painful day two months ago, when they had all gathered in Scrooge's office to welcome him  
home from his years away at building his financial empire…

They had neither seen nor heard from him for so long; but when Scrooge finally returned, he was a person his sisters no  
longer recognized. The sweet young lad from Glasgow who had once shined shoes to feed his family had become a greedy,  
hard-hearted miser. There seemed to be nothing left of the big brother Matilda and Hortense had loved and looked up to---  
what was worse, that didn't seem to bother Scrooge one little bit.

"If you don't like what a hard life has made of me," he had snarled, "then you can all _get out _!"

So they did all "get out": Hortense, her husband Quackmore and their twins, Donald and Della; and finally Matilda, heartbroken  
at this sudden and brutal alienation from her brother. Where they all went after that had long been a mystery to Duckburg;  
whether it mattered to Scrooge had been anybody's guess.

Matilda stayed with Hortense and her family for awhile, but felt she was imposing on them, even though they insisted  
otherwise. Besides, she knew she had to be on her own sooner or later.

"But where will you go, Matilda?" Hortense asked. "Back to Scotland? It'll be so lonely there with Momma and Poppa gone…"

"No, not Scotland," her sister said uncertainly. "Not for awhile, anyway. I just need to get away somewhere…maybe travel  
to Europe, or someplace."

"Well…wherever you go, I hope you land yourself a husband. _I_ shouldn't have been the first one to settle down!"

The elder McDuck lass smiled gently. "You just found the right man before _I_ did, Hortense. I never had the time," she added  
wistfully.

"I know, honey." Hortense hugged her. "But you're still young, and you're _definitely _still pretty. You should be beating the  
men off with a crowbar---and if you're going to Europe, you might_ have _to!"

So here she was now, in beautiful, romantic Vienna---and she hadn't had to fight _anybody _off yet. No matter; she was  
too tired and dispirited to care. For the time being, she had to find some way to get to a room and rest. With a heavy  
sigh, she set down her suitcase and collapsed wearily into a chair. Thankful that she had bought a German language  
book, she began flipping through it—hoping to find enough phrases to get by for the evening.

Meanwhile, Ludwig had finished his coffee and cake, bid a fond goodbye to Greta, then strolled over to the lobby. This  
was another spot (besides the restaurant) that was dear to the professor, who loved to sit on the fancy furniture and  
read, or to watch the people around him.

The professor had invented a little game in his mind, similar to "I Spy". He would observe someone close by and note  
his or her dress, voice and behavior, then try and guess everything he could about the person. His guesses were right  
at least half of the time, but because of his strange hobby Von Drake was easily distracted.

He had begun looking for a place to sit, paying no attention at first to anyone nearby; then an elegantly-dressed Russian  
couple walked through the door. Ludwig glanced up at them, fascinated by their appearance and not really looking where  
he was going…

Matilda had just memorized a few useful German sentences when there was a sudden yelp, and the thud of a body falling  
in front of her. She gasped and jumped out of her chair in fright, then looked down to find her suitcase turned over—and a  
startled Ludwig von Drake lying at her feet.

"Oh, dear Lord! I'm so sorry!" Matilda cried, moving her bag and crouching down by the professor as he sat up, dazed.  
"I'm sorry," she repeated tearfully. "It's all my fault…I shouldn't have had my things in your way like that!"

Ludwig blinked; despite his awkward situation, he noticed the woman's accent and found himself playing his usual  
guessing game.

_She is speaking English…but she is not American or British, _he mused.

But he was also blinking because his spectacles had fallen off, and he was all but blind without them. He fumbled around  
on the floor for them, hoping the lady hadn't stepped on them.

"Can I help you, sir?" Matilda offered nervously, reaching her hand toward him.

He squinted up at her with a frown, snapped "_Nein,_" and continued to feel around for the glasses. Matilda sighed unhappily;  
_this_ was certainly starting her trip off right.

"Oh, dear…you're angry at me, aren't you? And _you _can't understand me, either," she said despairingly.

The tone of her voice softened Ludwig; he stopped and looked up at her.

"I_ am _understanding you, Fräulein," he declared simply. "I just cannot _see _you…"

To his utter astonishment—or was it shock?—he felt Matilda throw her arms around his neck with a squeal of joy.

"Oh, thank God! You _do _speak English!" she exclaimed, wanting to weep with relief.

"Hmmm? Oh _ja, ja. _I speak _lotsa _different languages," Ludwig muttered, at once flustered and delirious as he felt Matilda's  
soft hair on his face and caught a whiff of her cologne. It was just then that the woman realized she was hugging a man  
she'd never met before.

"Oh dear! Excuse me, sir! I didn't mean to be forward," Matilda apologized, letting him go with a blush.

"_Nein, nein_…it is all right, Fräulein. But I haf dropped mine glasses," the professor said with an embarrassed grin.

Matilda glanced around her and found the spectacles lying by the sofa. "Here…they're not broken or anything," she said  
as she pressed them into Ludwig's hand.

"T'ank you, Fräulein_._" Ludwig adjusted the glasses over his bill, and then gave a start as he suddenly looked into a pair of  
beautiful blue eyes…

_**End Chapter II  
**_

* * *

Those of you who've watched _Walt Disney's Wonderful World of Color_ may remember an episode called "Fly with Von Drake"  
(which was partly the source for this story). In one segment, Ludwig gave the impression that he was still a child back in  
1903, so I assumed he was born in the late 1890's (even though Rosa has his birth date as 1870). Ludwig and Matilda  
would have been middle-aged by 1930 according to the Rosa timeline; but in the last chapters of _Life and Times of Scrooge  
McDuck_ Matilda just looks too young to be that advanced in years. I wanted she and Ludwig to get married while still fairly  
young enough to consider having children. This is integral to the plot, but I apologize for any "blasphemies".

For those of you not too familiar with Austrian food, _Sachertorte_ is a rich chocolate sponge cake filled with apricot jam and  
covered in dark chocolate, and _Schlaggobers_ is thick whipped cream served with coffee and dessert (you can tell a foodie  
wrote this thing).


	3. Two Lonely Hearts

**Ludwig and Matilda:  
A Love Story**

A_ Ducktales_ Fanfic  
(Inspired in part by Don Rosa's _The Life and Times of Scrooge McDuck_)

By LuvvyDuck

_Disclaimer_: Ludwig von Drake, etc. are © Disney. _The Life and Times of Scrooge_ _McDuck_ is (c) by Don Rosa and Gemstone Publishing. This story  
is (c) by yours truly (you should all know the drill by now).

* * *

_**Chapter III:  
Two Lonely Hearts  
**_

Ludwig stared, as though hypnotized, into the sweet blue eyes that had suddenly met his.

"_Ach, wie schön _(oh, how beautiful)!" he murmured, thinking he had never seen anything quite so lovely.

_Whatever that meant, I hope it was nice, _Matilda thought as she smiled nervously at the professor. Ludwig was smiling warmly  
at her in return, when a male voice interrupted his thoughts.

"Are you all right, sir?"

The 'spell' rudely broken, Ludwig gave a startled glance upwards to find a bellhop standing over him.

"May I help you up, sir?" the young man continued as he extended his hand.

"_No_, t'ank you," Ludwig said dryly, standing up quickly and brushing himself off. He was quite indignant, to say the least; that  
_he_, Professor Ludwig von Drake, should be picked up off the floor like a child—and in front of a lady? The _very _idea!

His manly pride was further offended when he saw the bellboy help Matilda get up. Why hadn't he thought to do that himself?

"Thank you," Matilda called to the bellboy as he went back to his station. She turned back to Ludwig, whose mortified glance  
immediately went to the floor. After an awkward silence, the professor cleared his throat.

"Well…I haf got to be goin' now, _Fräulein_," he said uncomfortably. _"Auf wiedersehen…"_ He nodded politely to the woman and  
began walking away, anxious now for the privacy of his flat.

"No, wait---please, sir, don't go!" Matilda called frantically. Ludwig turned and watched curiously as the woman grabbed her  
suitcase and ran over to him.

"Please don't go," she insisted. "I've only just come here. I don't know this city, or anyone in it…I don't even know the_ language!  
_ I have to learn a few sentences just to get into my room for the night…"

The professor listened to all this with astonishment. What on earth had brought this woman to his country, if she knew so little  
about it? But before he could ask her, Matilda lightly touched his arm.

"Please," she begged with frightened eyes, "_you _can speak my language. Could you help me?"

The touch of a female hand, and the obvious distress of its owner, quickly revived Ludwig's dignity. This pretty creature needed  
him, if only for a few minutes. He nodded and patted her hand kindly.

"It iss all right, Fräulein…I will translate for you. Please to follow me…"

He strode confidently up to the front desk, with Matilda following him. She listened in fascination as Ludwig effortlessly translated  
her conversation with the hotel clerk, until she was finally handed the key to her room.

"You now haf a nice lil' room on da second floor, Fräulein," the professor declared triumphantly. "You will be fine for da evening, no?"

"Oh, yes! Thank you so much!" Matilda said with relief. "I couldn't have done it without you, Mr…?"

"Professor Ludwig von Drake—at your service," Ludwig replied with a gallant bow. "And _you_ are,Fräulein …?"

"I'm Miss Matilda McDuck, and I'm from America," she said, offering her hand. She expected a handshake, but to her delighted  
surprise the professor took her hand and kissed it. If _this_ was the custom in Austria, she mused, she might enjoy her stay after  
all.

"McDuck?" Ludwig repeated. "Haf I heard dat name before?"

Matilda was sure that even the South Pole had heard of the name _McDuck_, but she didn't care to discuss that for the moment.  
"Coincidence, I suppose. Anyway," she continued, eager to change the subject, "how can I repay you, Professor? Will this be  
enough…?"

The professor was startled when Matilda drew a few _schilling _notes out of her purse. It was far too much money, Ludwig observed.  
He shook his head with sympathy; the poor woman didn't even know the_ currency_ in his country.

"You wish ta _pay_ me?" he asked her in disbelief. "_I_ do not take tips."

Matilda gulped and quickly put the money back. She had done it again, she thought.

"But I'm only grateful for your help, Professor," she insisted. "Surely there's _something _I can do to show it? Perhaps," she went on,  
"if I'm not being too bold, you might like to have dinner here with me this evening, about 7 o'clock? It's my treat."

Ludwig's eyes lit up. _Dinner?_ At the famous Sacher, of all places—and in the presence of such a lovely lady?

Best of all, it was _free._ The professor made a fair salary teaching, but he wasn't exactly middle class---the most luxury he allowed  
himself was the coffee and cake he'd had earlier. Later, he might have had a plain supper at a tavern or some other place (he  
wasn't much of a cook), though the food in those places was much better than the meals in the University's dining hall.

Well, then…he mustn't disappoint his gracious hostess, must he? Trying not to let the woman see his mouth watering, Ludwig shrugged.

"_If_ you are insisting…"

"Thank you!" Matilda said with relief. She could see that he was quite pleased at the prospect. "I've never tasted Austrian cooking  
before. I've so much yet to learn about your country…"

"Ach, den. Dis evening may be an education for you, yes?" Ludwig suggested.

"I should hope so…since I'll be dining with a professor," she replied with a bashful smile.

Ludwig chuckled. She was not such a serious little thing after all, he thought. "Den I will see you dis evening, mine good lady," he  
declared, tipping his hat.

And on that friendly note, each went their separate ways for the time being.

* * *

Needless to say, Ludwig thoroughly enjoyed his meal. It had been awhile since he had tasted the Sacher's boiled beef; it reminded  
him so much of his mother's own cooking. He was equally pleased to see Matilda enjoying the dinner as well. They had both dressed  
their best for the occasion—Ludwig had changed into his finest suit, while Matilda wore a blue silk dress and tucked a pink rose in her  
blonde hair. The professor felt honored to be dining with such a beautiful lady.

"Da food is very good here, no?" he asked her over their coffee and dessert.

"Yes, it is," Matilda answered. "I'm glad you accepted my invitation."

"_I_ am glad too," Ludwig said, beaming. "T'ank you. You are a kind lady, _Fräulein _McDuck."

She blushed. "Thank you," she said softly. "You've been quite kind to me yourself. I felt so lost when I came here…"

"_Ach_, poor lady…dot is because you _were_ lost!" declared Ludwig, with a sympathetic chuckle. "But…it is all right if I ask you somet'ing?"

"Yes, of course."

"You are from America, yes? An' yet, you do not talk like an American lady. I am hearing a certain accent…"

"Well…"

"Wait, wait! I like to guess," Ludwig insisted with a grin. "You are…Irish? No! You are Scottish, yes?"

Matilda laughed lightly. "That's right, Professor. I was born and raised in Glasgow. And if _I_ may ask, where did you learn to speak  
English?"

"I haf lived in America too, Fräulein."

"You, too?" she questioned, feeling a sudden new interest in her guest.

"_Ja_…I was a lil' boy, den," the professor replied, with a wistful sigh as he remembered those lost years. "Mine father, he taught me  
English. A very smart man, he was…"

He was speaking cheerfully, but there was a hint of sadness in his eyes that did not escape the notice of his hostess. Having spent  
so many years without her parents, with her brother's estrangement now adding to her sorrow, she was suddenly eager to ask  
Ludwig about his own family. Since they had just met, however, it didn't seem very tactful to do so.

But she was sure it was all right to ask him about his work. "So, you're a professor? Where do you teach?"

"At da University of Vienna,Fräulein."

"That's interesting…and what do you teach?"

_That_ happened to be one of Ludwig's favorite questions, as was _any_ question that invited him to show off how smart he was.  
"What do I teach? Everyt'ing!" he said proudly. "Da psychology, da science, da music…name it!"

Matilda was amazed; she'd never heard of someone teaching _everything_. "That must keep you very busy," she remarked.

"Oh,_ ja_. But it is good to be busy, no? Anyways," he continued, gazing steadily at his attractive guest, "may I ask you,Fräulein…  
what has brought you to my country, if you are feeling so lost?"

It was a question that Ludwig might have felt justified in asking, what with the awkward situation that had earlier involved him;  
but it was not a question that Matilda felt like answering for the time being. She stared down at her plate and picked thoughtfully  
at her piece of cake.

"You are not wantin' to talk about it?" Ludwig asked her gently. "I do not mean ta pry…"

"No, it's all right," Matilda said, smiling a little. "After all I've put you through tonight, you've got every right to ask questions."

The professor couldn't help laughing pleasantly at her statement. "All you haf put me t'rough? _Ach_, dear lady, you haf put me  
t'rough an ex'cellent meal, an' your most gracious company! I should like ta be 'tortured' like dat _all _da time!"

Matilda laughed in return; it was hard to stay melancholy around this eccentric but agreeable fellow, and she began to feel better.  
Still, she knew Ludwig deserved _some_ sort of answer.

"Well," she explained, after a sip of her coffee, "let's just say I needed to get away from it all…to have a little change of scenery."

Ludwig nodded; though he perceived that a whole untold story lay behind the woman's answer.

"But off course. One must change da scenery now and den, no?" He nodded toward the window, where the Austrian Alps could  
be seen from a faint distance. "And what bedder scenery to change to?"

"It_ is_ very beautiful," admitted Matilda. "I'll need to get to know this place better, and learn more about your country."

Ludwig saw an opportunity presenting itself, but…did he dare to hope?

"Will you…stay here long, Fräulein?" he asked slowly.

"For a little while, yes…"

The professor cleared his throat. "If it is all right…I could…I could show you da sights, as dey say. Tomorrow, yes?"

Matilda had hoped to be shown around Vienna, as a matter of fact; though she felt she had imposed on Ludwig's chivalry more than  
enough. Yet he _was_ making the offer himself, and did seem willing to spend time with her…

"That would be nice of you," she answered. "Would 9 o'clock tomorrow morning be all right?"

"Dot will be fine!" Ludwig replied with delight. "I will show you da University where I am working…da Opera, an' many places…"  
He added, almost shyly: "You will…you will come t'love mine country, Fräulein McDuck."

"I'm sure I will," Matilda answered warmly, feeling she was finally starting to enjoy herself.

The waiter came by with the check, but he handed it to Ludwig by mistake---naturally assuming that a man would buy dinner for  
his lady friend, rather than the other way around. The professor took one look at the total sum and thought he would faint. In  
spite of Matilda's kind offer to pay, though, he felt embarrassed about handing her the bill. Then suddenly, he felt her pressing a  
wad of money into his hand; with a grateful glance at his hostess, Ludwig paid the check.

"_Danke, geehrter Herr, Frau...guter Abend," _the waiter said, bowing.

"_Danke schön," _Ludwig responded as the man left. "And t'ank_ you_," he whispered humbly to Matilda.

"It's all right. I should have done that earlier," she replied. "But what did that waiter say?"

"He t'anked us and wished us good evening."

"You might have to teach me German, too," Matilda admitted with a little smile.

"I would be glad to." Ludwig dabbed his beak with a napkin and rose from the table. "Well...I haf to be goin' now, an' let you get  
your rest. But I haf so enjoyed dis nice dinner, Fräulein McDuck."

"If…it's quite appropriate, Professor, you can call me Matilda," she suggested bashfully, feeling that "Fräulein McDuck" was a little  
too formal.

The professor smiled; so far, so good. "Well, den…you must call me_ Ludwig_," he replied, beaming.

"Thank you again for your kindness, Ludwig," Matilda said softly as she stretched out her hand, hoping her guest would kiss it  
again. She was not disappointed.

"_Auf wiedersehen_, Matilda," Ludwig declared cordially.

"Goodbye," she answered softly.

He walked out of the hotel, turning once to glance back at Matilda as she picked up her evening bag and started back to her room, her expression calmer and a bit happier than when he had first seen her. _Such a pretty thing she is, _he mused.

He waved down a cab, and all through the ride home, Ludwig's thoughts were filled with the evening and the day's earlier events…  
and the woman who had been part of them. How beautiful she was...yet how unhappy she had seemed at first.

What could have made her that way? What had driven her so far from her home, to a country she knew nothing about? It was  
something quite devastating, most likely. Whatever it was, this sweet, lovely girl was alone and lost, in a place so strange to her.  
Did she have—or _want_—anyone in her life at all?

Such questions as these ran through Ludwig's mind as he walked up the steps to his flat; but if any answers were forthcoming,  
he must be patient for them. He was sure of one thing: Matilda needed a friend, and he was happy to fill _that _need at least...

------------------------------------------

Shortly before the professor went to bed, Matilda was already retiring for the night. It had been a long and harrowing day; but the  
evening had somewhat made up for that. She was very tired as she settled into her soft bed, yet for some minutes she could not  
sleep.

She lay thinking of all that had happened that day…of her unusual meeting with Ludwig, and their conversation over dinner. Quite  
an interesting fellow, this Professor Von Drake…a bit on the prideful side, but friendly and courteous all the same. If it hadn't been  
for him, by the time Matilda finally got to her room she would have just curled up in her bed and cried the whole night. Ludwig had  
actually made her first night bearable—enjoyable, even.

But he seemed to be alone. He had mentioned no wife, though it would have been rather impolite (_and_ nosy) to ask the professor  
if he was married. Yet somehow, Matilda had a feeling that Ludwig might be a bachelor. She remembered the sad look in his eyes  
when he spoke about his father. There seemed to be a loneliness in him…and loneliness was something she had known all too well.

_**End Part III  
**_

* * *

A/N: Not much to explain here that you didn't read in the first two chapters, except one little detail about all the German words used  
in this story. Anyone who's heard Ludwig von Drake in the cartoons is no stranger to his broken English. _So why does he still use it  
when he's speaking in his own language?_ you might be asking. Well, there's a good reason for that: technically, he's speaking in  
German when talking to Greta or other people in his native Austria; but except for a word or phrase now and then, the language is_  
implied_ for the sake of the readers. And we're so used to Ludwig's accent ("Well, 'ello dere!") that if he _didn't_ talk like that, even in  
his own (implied) language, it'd just look kind of odd. Also, I rarely translate the German words; but you'll notice I make an exception  
now and then.


	4. No One Like You

**Ludwig and Matilda:  
A Love Story**

A _Ducktales _Fanfic

(Inspired in part by Don Rosa's _The Life and Times of Scrooge McDuck_)

_Disclaimer:_ Ludwig von Drake, etc. are (c) Disney. _The Life and Times of Scrooge McDuck _is (c) by Don Rosa and Gemstone Publishing.  
This story is (c) by me. Please don't copy, link, or use it in any wise without my permission.

--

_**Chapter IV:  
No One Like You**_

_In your eyes are my secrets that I've never shown you  
In my heart I feel I've always known you  
In your arms there's a comfort that I never knew  
You're what I've been waiting for  
There's no one like you  
Sure as the sunrise, pure as a prayer  
You fashioned hope right out of thin air  
Every dream I abandoned, seems it could come true  
I believe in miracles  
There's no one like you _

-- From "No One Like You", by Sarah Brightman

* * *

It was a more cheerful Matilda McDuck that walked through the hotel lobby the next day. The night's rest had  
renewed her spirit; so had the compassion of the extraordinary gentle-duck who had quite _literally _stumbled  
into her life.

She had risen early, dressing simply but attractively. Taking a light breakfast of coffee and rolls in her room, she sat  
by her window and gazed out at the sunny countryside. Only yesterday, Vienna had seemed so overwhelming--  
threatening, even. But how cheery and welcoming it was now!

Despite the traveling she had done with Hortense and Scrooge in the past, Matilda wasn't quite used to large cities;  
spending her formative years in the ancient Castle McDuck hadn't done a lot for her social life, either. Not that she'd  
minded that much--after all, not every girl could say she had grown up in a castle. In so many respects, it had been  
better than their shabby dwelling back in Glasgow.

Yet there had been love and warmth in that old house, and the sacred bond of kinfolk. True, there _had _been poverty;  
but there was still that fierce Celtic pride that made her father Fergus McDuck anxious to make his family thrive, to  
restore his clan to the glory of its better days. There had been nothing wrong with that, of course; yet no one--even  
Scrooge himself--could have imagined that it would lead to disillusion and heartache years down the road. It was a  
tragic irony, that what Fergus had hoped would fortify his family would in fact end up tearing it apart.

Quickly, Matilda put such thoughts out of her mind--this was not to be a day for painful memories. She was soon to  
share the company of a kindly and quite sophisticated drake in one of the most beautiful cities in the world; this day--  
and hopefully every day thereafter--she was going to enjoy her life, as she should have long ago.

---------------------------

Anxious to be on time, Ludwig arrived at the Sacher about 8:45 a.m. He had also taken care to dress well, donning a  
bluish-grey jacket and his favorite felt hat with a feather in the band. Along the way, he bought a small bouquet of  
pink carnations and baby's breath for the occasion.

He was glad it was Saturday, with no work at the University to be done. Normally, he wouldn't have minded if it were  
otherwise; with no family or serious social obligations, whatever free time he didn't spend on music or the theatre  
(or eating) was used up at the library, or in his laboratory. So much of his life had revolved around his academic and  
cultural interests that Saturday was just another day to him. But this day would not be like any other for Ludwig von  
Drake; in fact, it would mark the beginning of a new life--a life that in time would be shared with someone else.

* * *

Matilda patted on a light, flowery cologne and studied herself in the mirror, hoping she looked nice enough for her  
visitor. Though she had no particular expectations from this meeting; at least, none that she dared hope for. Ludwig  
had merely offered to show her around the city, and they'd only just met, for goodness' sake. Perhaps the professor  
just felt sorry for her and was trying to be kind…but they could still be friends, couldn't they? Besides, as lonely as  
she was, the prospect of even the least attention from such a smart and cultured fellow as Professor Von Drake  
was welcome indeed.

Though trying not to think of the past, Matilda could not help feeling rather wistful as she considered how Hortense,  
despite her fiery temper, had managed to wed first--while _she _was still a spinster. But then, luck seemed to have  
been with Hortense from the start. Moreover, Scrooge's cantankerous (_and _greedy) exploits had taken up a good  
deal of both his sisters' time. Consequently, the elder McDuck lass had long given up on the "handsome cowboys"  
she and Hortense had often once talked about, and hoped to court when they left for America. For Matilda, it seemed,  
there was no Prince Charming--not even a frog to kiss.

She glanced at her watch--nearly 9 a.m. With one last glance in the mirror, she left her room and started downstairs,  
blushing as she became aware of approving looks from various gentlemen passing by. Her heart was pounding; to  
her own surprise, she was actually trembling. She was a grown woman, for pity's sake! Yet here she was, all aflutter  
like a young debutante at her coming-out party--and just as nervous.

What if Ludwig should be late? What if he'd changed his mind? What if he was just playing a terrible joke? What if…  
what if…?

_Stop it,_ Matilda told herself. _No matter what happens, I'm going to enjoy myself today._

At 9 o'clock sharp, Ludwig's feet were crossing the hotel foyer. He walked slowly, glancing anxiously around him for  
any sign of the lady who had graced him with both her genteel presence and that splendid meal the night before.  
Like her, he was nervous and uncertain about their meeting again, though he was doing his best to put up a brave  
front. But he was clutching his bouquet so tightly he was afraid of crushing the flowers, and he was sure his knees  
were knocking.

"Ludwig?"

He turned quickly at the soft voice calling his name…there she was. She stood across the room in her delicate  
flowered dress and soft pink hat, her sweet blue eyes and gentle smile lighting up the room.

"Matilda?" stammered the professor. He almost hadn't recognized her. She looked even prettier than last night,  
and Ludwig was so awestruck that he simply stood as though rooted to the floor.

"Oh, Ludwig, you did come!" Matilda exclaimed with relief. "And you've arrived on time, too!"

"But off course!" he replied, laughing nervously. "I alvays try to be punct'al…" Now if he could only try to _walk_.

_How handsome he looks,_ Matilda thought with a blush as she began to move toward him. _And how delightfully shy! Maybe…  
maybe he's **not **attached to anyone else._

_**Himmel**…she's comin' over ta me! _Ludwig mused, blinking. _Get movin', Von Drake…da faintin' heart never won a fair lady!_

When he managed to go up to Matilda without tripping on the carpet, Ludwig tipped his hat and bowed shakily as he  
offered Matilda the flowers.

"I bought dese for you," he declared proudly.

Matilda's face lit up at the sight of the pink and white bouquet. "You got them…for _me_?" she asked with surprise  
and delight. For a moment Ludwig thought he saw tears in the woman's eyes, leading him to wonder if any man  
had ever shown her kindness in the past.

"I t'ought dat you would like dem," he said simply, though his heart was almost bursting at Matilda's happiness.

"They're so pretty!" Matilda continued, taking the bouquet and smelling the sweet carnations. "Thank you, Ludwig.  
I've always loved flowers."

"_Ach_, I can see dat! Ev'ry time I am seeing you, you are wearin' flowers," the professor replied with a grin. "You are  
lookin' nice, Matilda."

"Thank you…so are you, if I might say so," was the bashful reply.

"_Ja_, you may say so!" Ludwig answered proudly. "Now, we shall be going, yes?"

* * *

Ludwig had made an itinerary of sorts, selecting sites most attractive to tourists, as well as some of the places  
he especially loved to visit. Anxious as he was to show off _all _of Vienna, however, he didn't want his guest to be  
overwhelmed by it in one day. First, they visited the Opera, only a short walk from the hotel, where Ludwig  
explained its history and recalled many of the operas performed there. They saw the Hofsburg Imperial Palace  
and visited an art museum nearby; then, not wishing to tire Matilda out, Ludwig caught a horse-drawn cab for  
the rest of their little tour.

"Your carriage iss waitin', mine lady!" he joked as he bowed to her, then helped her climb aboard. Matilda had  
to laugh; she was thoroughly enjoying the day with the kind professor.

After they passed by the University where Ludwig taught, St. Stephan's Cathedral and the famous Danube River,  
the couple stopped at a quiet little café where the professor treated his lady friend to lunch. He apologized that  
it wasn't fancy like the Sacher.

"I don't mind one bit," Matilda replied over her plate of _Backhendl_, an Austrian version of fried chicken. "I like the  
food there very much, but I'm really not used to fancy meals. _This _is just right for me--it makes me think of home."

Ludwig smiled. "Did you have fun t'day, Matilda?"

"Oh, ever so much fun!" she replied happily. "You make a wonderful tour guide, Ludwig."

"_Danke!_ I am havin' fun, too. So, are you feelin' better about mine country, or are you _still _feelin' lost?" he asked slyly.

Matilda laughed as she remembered their conversation the night before. "I'm feeling much better now, Ludwig…and  
not quite so lost, thanks to you."

Her eyes were twinkling as she smiled at him, and Ludwig's own eyes went bashfully to his plate. He could only  
chuckle, for once at a loss for words.

"The Opera house was very beautiful," his lady guest continued, wishing to fill the silence. "I wouldn't mind seeing a  
show there some night."

"_You_ like da opera, too?" asked Ludwig in delighted surprise.

"Why, yes. I listen to it on the radio at home," Matilda explained. "I've even thought of buying a piano, but I  
don't know how to play one. Silly, isn't it?"

One could almost have seen the proverbial light-bulb pop up over Ludwig's head. After all, he _was _a music  
professor, among other things…but just how loudly was opportunity knocking?

As if reading his mind, Matilda declared: "That's right--you teach music at the University, don't you? I wonder…  
oh, no! I couldn't."

"Dot's all right! Go on," the professor encouraged.

"I was wondering if you could give me a few music lessons before I leave? Though I'm not one of your students…"

"It is not mattering!" Ludwig replied brightly. "You can come after da classes, any time you are wanting."

"But you're a terribly busy man, Ludwig. Are you sure you'll have time?"

"_Ach_, I will make time," he insisted with a grin. "An' I will teach you all you are needin' ta know. Dis Monday afternoon, yes?"

"Yes," she replied with a smile, glad she wasn't imposing on her new friend after all.

They rode the cab back to the Sacher, where Matilda offered to buy Ludwig dinner again; but he graciously (though reluctantly)  
refused--not wishing to take any more advantage of his lady friend's generosity.

"Another night, I am promisin'," he vowed. "T'morrow is Sunday…would you like t'come ta St. Stephan's for da mornin' Mass?  
Da music is very nice dere."

But to his surprise, Matilda seemed a bit hesitant about the idea. She wasn't a non-believer by any means, but it had been  
awhile since she'd attended any church.

"I don't know," she said uncertainly, but Ludwig sensed her feelings and saved her an explanation.

"_Ach_, you are still tired from travellin'. Dot is all right!" he insisted. "Maybe another time, no? Den I will see you at da Univers'ty  
on Monday. _Auf wiedersehen_!"

He kissed her hand then went outside to a waiting cab. Matilda stood watching him until he left.

"How sweet he is!" she said to herself as she went off to her room for a brief rest.

* * *

Back in his flat, Ludwig sat in his easy chair with a glass of Riesling, listening to a Mozart concerto on his radio. Normally, he might  
have been tinkering around at his lab table or reading his books, or occupied with some intellectual pursuit or other. Today had  
been quite a busy day, though, and he was glad to just settle back and enjoy some music.

He thought over the day he had spent with Matilda. She was so different now from last night; so much happier and more at ease  
in his company…and he with hers. It seemed that they could in fact become friends; yet was there even the remote possibility that  
friendship might grow into _love_? Ludwig wanted to believe so; but after years of bachelorhood, he wondered if there was any point  
in hoping. After all, this sweet and pretty lady who had befriended him would have to go home _sometime_. What was more, they  
were two separate countries apart--well, three, if you counted Scotland. They could write each other of course; but who knew if  
they would ever see each other again?

With a sigh, Ludwig shrugged and sipped his wine. Whatever the future might bring, he was cheering up a sad and lonely lady…  
and for the time being, filling the void in his own existence.

* * *

_  
It's as if he should be here_, Matilda thought wistfully.

She felt odd sitting alone in the Sacher dining room that evening--partly because the place was still new and strange to her. Yet  
there was another reason that didn't quite make sense, and the McDuck lass was anxious to figure it out.

She had only been acquainted with Von Drake since yesterday, but she was beginning to feel as if she'd known him longer. What  
was it about him? He wasn't like any of the people she'd met during her travels with Scrooge and Hortense. And she had _certainly  
_met some singular characters: rugged cowboys, notorious outlaws, African witch doctors; even the President of the United States  
himself. So what on earth was so fascinating about a humble (if _humble _was quite the word) music professor from Vienna--and a  
rather eccentric one at that?

Maybe _that _was what made him fascinating, Matilda thought with a little smile: the fact that Ludwig _wasn't _like anyone else. His  
charming accent, his boyish humor and gentle manner, his remarkable knowledge and sense of culture, even his awkward English…  
all made up a personality so charismatic that she couldn't help but like him. Far from home and what remained of her family, she  
had also found Ludwig's presence a comfort---like a drink of cold water in the desert of her spirit.

_And he's **just **what you need, Matilda,_ said a little voice in her head.

Matilda blinked; what was she thinking? She was only going to be here for a week or two, and she and Ludwig weren't keeping  
company in the actual sense…were they? Though she wasn't quite sure how an Austrian drake might interpret a lady's friendship,  
and she was beginning to wonder exactly what Hortense _had _meant by "…you'll have to beat them off with a crowbar!"

But she _hadn't _needed a "crowbar" for Ludwig after all. He'd been a perfect gentleman, even a little bashful. Far from imposing  
his company, in fact, he actually seemed to be backing off a bit. Matilda respected him for that, though she had to wonder why.

_Maybe he's tired, and wants to be alone tonight…or he just thinks **I** do. Well, I do appreciate a little time alone…I **think**._

Yet she found herself missing Ludwig, and wondered how he was spending his own evening. In only the short time she'd gotten  
to know the professor, it now seemed natural for him to be sharing a table with her. Even the meals seemed to taste better with  
him around, she thought as she toyed with her bowl of soup.

_"Ist Ihre Mahlzeit alles Recht, Fräulein?"_

Startled, she looked up to see a plump middle-aged waitress in a black frock and white apron smiling down at her.

"I'm sorry, I don't understand," Matilda said meekly. Now she _really _wished Ludwig was with her.

"It is all right, Fräulein. I speak some little English. But I see you are not eating so much…is your dinner all right, I am asking?"

"Oh, yes…the food is marvelous here! I'm just not very hungry tonight," she admitted, blushing a little---though grateful someone  
else could speak her language.

"It is too bad the professor is not eating with you again," the woman remarked, adjusting her apron. "He has _such _a healthy appetite!"

"You know him?" Matilda asked in astonishment.

"Oh, _ja_! He is the talk of the Sacher!" declared the waitress with a friendly laugh. "But I forget my manners. My name is Greta…"

"I'm Matilda McDuck," her customer replied. "So, you do know Ludwig?"

"_Ja_! The Professor comes here always for his coffee and_ Sachertorte_…that is our famous chocolate cake. Will you have some, Fräulein?"

Well, she _hadn't _cleaned her plate, but…who was there to care? "That would be nice, thank you."

As Greta served the cake and poured the rich, dark coffee---topping both with a good-sized lump of thick whipped cream---she talked  
happily about her favorite customer.

"Professor Von Drake likes to come here and study," Greta declared. "Many from the University come here. He usually stays in the  
coffee room, with his books and his papers. But some people do not like him."

"For Heaven's sake, why?"

The waitress shook her head with a wry smile. "They say that the Professor talks too much---that he likes to brag how smart he is.  
But he is a good man, Fräulein. They don't know him as they ought to."

_They certainly don't,_ Matilda considered. "And he comes here just for coffee and cake? Surely he eats his other meals here…"

"_Nein, _Fräulein. I don't think he has enough of money," the waitress said regretfully.

"What a shame! They must not pay him enough," remarked Matilda, though she would have thought university professors made  
plenty of money.

"It is not that so much," Greta explained. Several of the University's teachers dined at the Sacher, in fact; even some of the  
students ate there on occasion. But a great deal of Ludwig's pay went for books, materials for his experiments, the theatre and  
any number of things.

Yet the professor was generous with what money he did have. Greta recalled one afternoon when Ludwig walked out of the  
Sacher after his usual coffee and _Sachertorte _and found a 5-_schilling _note lying in the street. It was a good sum of money, and  
he surely needed such a windfall; but to Greta's surprise, the professor chose not to keep it.

"A blind man was begging on the corner," she continued, "and do you know that Professor Von Drake walked right up and  
gave him all that money? So, I do not care how proud they say he is. His heart is as big as his brain!"

Matilda sat wide-eyed at Greta's story---Ludwig was obviously a far cry from her brother Scrooge. "I can't believe he did that,"  
she marveled. Yet in some small way, she _could _believe it.

_"That _is Ludwig Von Drake!" Greta insisted, adding warmly: "You are lucky to meet someone like him, Fräulein. We were so  
surprised last night, to see you sit here with him---he has always been alone. He looked so happy, to be with you."

Tears sprang to Matilda's eyes as she remembered that evening. How lonesome the professor must be, after all!

"There isn't…a 'Frau' Von Drake, then?" she asked hesitantly.

"_Nein_," the waitress answered. Then with a sly smile she leaned low and whispered, "But there _should _be."

She winked and left to check another table. Matilda sat like a statue, her thoughts all her own.

That night, as she lay in bed reflecting on the past two days, she kept mulling over what Greta had told her. Quite an enigma,  
this Ludwig Von Drake: peculiar, but wise and gentle; proud, haughty perhaps---yet funny and kind; a bragging chatterbox, but  
generous to a fault. And above all: _an eligible bachelor._

A hopeful smile came to Matilda's bill, and she suddenly wondered if Austrian professors might be even more fun than handsome  
cowboys. Snuggling into her pillow, she whispered in the darkness:

"Ludwig von Drake…_I think I love you."_

--

**End Chapter IV**

* * *

Just a note on the character of Greta--you might wonder why she seems unusually friendly to a person she's only met the first time.  
That's just the kind of personality I gave her; there are some people who simply "embrace" the whole world, and make you wish  
more of them existed. Greta is just one of those people.


	5. A Music Lesson

**Ludwig and Matilda:  
A Love Story**

A_ Ducktales _Fanfic

(Inspired in part by Don Rosa's _The Life and Times of Scrooge McDuck_)

Disclaimer: Ludwig von Drake, etc. are (c) Disney. _The Life and Times of Scrooge McDuck _is (c) by Don Rosa  
and Gemstone Publishing. This story is (c) by me. Please don't copy, link, or use it in any wise without my  
permission.

A/N: This contains spoilers for _The Life and Times of Scrooge McDuck_. Try not to judge Scrooge too harshly;  
after all, this is mostly a flashback, and in later years that old miser _did_ mellow out---a little.

--

_**Chapter V:  
A Music Lesson**_

_Forth into the world we go  
Planning futures, shaping years  
Love bursts in and suddenly  
All our wisdom disappears_

_Love makes fools of everyone  
All the rules we make are broken  
Yes love, love changes everyone  
Live or perish in its flame  
Love will never, never let you be the same  
Love will never, never let you be the same_

_--_From_"Aspects of Love" (_Andrew Lloyd Weber)

* * *

Matilda was awestruck by the size of the University when she arrived the following Monday; it had certainly been  
large enough on the outside when Ludwig showed it to her before. She felt quite small as she wandered the halls  
of the centuries-old academy, but was thrilled at the thought of her new friend actually _teaching _in this handsome  
building. What a great man Professor Von Drake must be!

She was relieved not to need her German phrase book, for Ludwig had assured her that much of the faculty spoke  
and understood English. She still hoped to learn enough of the language to get along, since the professor couldn't  
always be around to translate.

Dr. Hans Vogel, a tall, distinguished-looking gentleman who headed the University, greeted Matilda at his office and  
kindly escorted her to Ludwig's classroom. Along the way they met one Professor Franz Schnabel, head of the physics  
department. Like Dr. Vogel, the professor also spoke English.

"Good day, Professor Schnabel,"declared Dr. Vogel. "I'd like you to meet Fräulein Matilda McDuck, from America. She will  
be taking piano lessons from Professor Von Drake."

"_Guten Tag, Fräulein!" _said Prof. Schnabel, beaming at the pretty blonde duck.

"Hello," Matilda replied, smiling also.

Just then, a familiar voice wailed petulantly in German from the music room.

"_Ist das, wie man eine Violine, Sie dummer Junge spielt? Sie werden mich fahren verrückt!" _("Is that the way to play a violin,  
you silly boy? You're going to drive me crazy!")

Professor Schnabel burst out laughing. "That cuckoo's out of his nest again!" he observed. But Matilda was quite startled,  
for the voice was obviously Ludwig's.

"He's not…_normally _like that with his students, is he?" she questioned uncertainly.

"Depends upon the situation, I suppose," the director said with a sigh. "That must be Fritz Wolf catching it again. He keeps  
missing the notes on his violin, and the poor professor's going insane trying to teach him."

Prof. Schnabel would have remarked that Ludwig was insane _anyway _when he started, but Dr. Vogel saw the bewildered  
look on Matilda's face just in time.

"You mustn't worry, Fräulein_,_" he assured her. "The professor doesn't yell at his _female _students."

Professor Schnabel raised a curious eyebrow and leaned close to Dr. Vogel. "So she is Von Drake's new student?" he asked  
in German.

"So to speak," the director answered in the same language.

The professor shook his head with a chuckle. _"_God help her!"

Dr. Vogel gave a stiff smile and turned to Matilda. "Well, then,Fräulein McDuck…let's go on to the music room, shall we?"

Matilda was beginning to wonder if this was a good idea after all; but when they reached the music room, she had to smile.  
There stood Ludwig, dressed handsomely in a dark suit, but raising a martyred glance to the ceiling while a flustered young  
man awkwardly screeched _The Blue Danube _on his violin. It _did _sound rather awful, and it reminded Matilda of the time her  
father tried to play a set of bagpipes.

"Again,Herr Wolf," the professor commanded, tapping his conductor's baton with a pained expression. The young man rolled  
his eyes.

Dr. Vogel cleared his throat politely. "I say, Herr Professor?"

"_Ja?"_ Ludwig answered testily as he looked up at the voice; but when he saw Matilda standing in the doorway, he blanched  
and dropped his baton.

"Oh…ah… 'ello dere," he stammered, tugging at his collar.

"Your new music student is here, Professor Von Drake," Vogel declared. "This is Fräulein McDuck--the nice young lady you  
told us about."

"Oh, _ja! _How nice to be seein' you again, Matilda…ah,Fräulein_!_" Ludwig answered, taking her hand and only lightly pecking it. She  
blinked; the professor's behavior was unusually stiff and formal, and he had called her "Fräulein" again. Perhaps he was  
afraid to act more sociable with his colleagues present…

"Since you're going to be busy with Fräulein McDuck, Herr Professor, why don't we let Herr Wolf go for the day?" Dr. Vogel  
suggested pleasantly.

"_Ja, ja! _See you t'morrow, Herr Wolf. _Auf wiedersehen!_" Ludwig said, hastily waving away the young man, who was quite  
happy to be excused.

"Very good! We'll leave you two alone now, Herr Professor," continued the director. "You _will _go easy on Fräulein McDuck,  
now won't you?"

Ludwig didn't answer at first---he was glaring dubiously at Prof. Schnabel, who had turned away and was laughing to himself.

"Herr Professor?"

Startled, the professor straightened his tie and laughed awkwardly. "But off course! Why am I _not _goin' to…ah, what?" was his  
bewildered reply.

Dr. Vogel chose not to enlighten him further. "Never mind. _Auf wiedersehen, _and good luck with your lessons, Fräulein McDuck."

"Thank you," she answered as the two men left. Hearing her, Ludwig was suddenly reminded of their awkward first meeting  
at the Hotel Sacher. He smiled to himself, remembering how Matilda had picked up his spectacles and he  
had looked into her pretty blue eyes for the first time…

"_Ach_, t'ank you. I _did _drop dat, yes?" he said, laughing lightly as Matilda picked up his baton and gave it to him. "I am always  
droppin' things, an' you are always pickin' dem up. How clumsy am I, yes?"

He then apologized for being so reserved earlier. Since Matilda was his student (at least by proxy) and unknown to the  
University so far, he had only wanted to show proper etiquette. When they were outside of the classroom, he assured her,  
it was quite a different thing. The McDuck lass smiled, relieved that they weren't such strangers after all.

"We start da lesson now, yes?" the professor declared. He led Matilda over to the class piano, and they seated themselves  
at the keyboard. Matilda promised she would try to be a good student.

"I noticed you having a little trouble earlier," she remarked.

Ludwig rolled his eyes. "_Ach_, dat Fritz Wolf…he is wantin' ta learn da violins. I am hopin' he fin'ly _does! _He is a good boy, but  
dat is a good Strad'varius---an' he is _torturin' _it!"

"He seemed to be torturing _you_, too."

"_Ja_. Da sacrifices we make for art, no?" Ludwig said with a wry smile, as he sat on the bench beside Matilda and sorted  
through some music books. "Now, you can read music?"

"Oh, yes."

"Good! Den we shall get started..."

Then began the first of many lessons for the professor and his "student"--though at first, things got off to a rather shaky start.

As passionate a musician as his father had been, Ludwig could not bear to hear an instrument played badly. Each time Matilda  
missed a note or struck the wrong chord, the professor winced but bravely held his tongue, not wishing to discourage her in  
any way. It was fortunate that she could at least read music; otherwise, Ludwig would have torn his hair out from pure frustration.

But a couple of days later, when the professor barely choked back a groan after an especially sour note, Matilda looked up at him  
in concern.

"Are you all right?" she asked.

"What? Oh _ja, ja! _Off course!" Ludwig replied, quickly taking a handkerchief and wiping the sweat from his brow. "Iss it hot in  
here? Maybe I should open a window, yes?"

His pretty student gave a sad half-smile. "I'm not doing very well at all, am I?"

"It iss all right! Learnin' iss hard work!" he declared, laughing cheerfully and not once hinting at the private Purgatory he was  
suffering.

"It certainly _is_," Matilda admitted. She folded her hands in her lap and sighed heavily. "Ludwig, let's stop. I don't know what I  
was thinking, wanting to learn the piano. I'm just wasting your time…"

"But you haf _not _wasted my time," Ludwig insisted. "And it iss only two days…even _I_ did not learn ta play so quick."

Matilda shook her head. "It could take forever for _me_, and I'd planned to leave Vienna in a week or two. It was a foolish idea of  
mine, Ludwig. I don't think I'm meant to play piano, anyway."

Her words went straight to the professor's heart. He had heard them so often from students in the past. It saddened him all  
the more to now hear them from someone he had come to truly care for. He couldn't let this lovely woman give up--nor let her  
speak of herself so harshly.

"You are not kind to your self," he told her quietly, but firmly. "You are a good an' beaut'ful lady. I am not wishin' _anyone_ to  
treat you bad---not even you."

She could make no reply to that; she blushed and looked down at her hands. Glancing at them also, Ludwig suddenly  
remembered a teaching technique that he normally used with children.

"If I can look at your hands?" he asked gently. Matilda blinked at him curiously, but held them out. The professor noted the  
long, dainty fingers and supple wrists (though not without _some _admiration), then said:

"You haf hands made for playin' a piano. So, _dat _means you are meant to play."

She looked up at him with a little more hope in her eyes, and he smiled.

"You will play, Matilda…I will help you."

Still holding her hands, he guided her through the short piece they had been playing, gently pressing the delicate white  
fingers over the ivory and ebony keys. Matilda had to smile to herself---this was certainly _one _way of getting a gentleman  
to hold her hand. Ludwig, however, was too focused on the music to fully grasp the delightful situation he was in…for the  
time being, anyway.

"See? We are makin' beaut'ful music together!" he said triumphantly.

Little did he realize the prophetic nature of those words.

* * *

To her delighted surprise, Matilda found that she had a talent for music after all. She learned the piano quickly and quite  
well, thanks to her teacher's unique method. That the same method would bring the two closer was no mere accident of  
Nature, but it surely helped Nature along--as they would shortly discover.

For all his self-assurance in academic matters, the professor felt self-conscious and even a bit shy toward the opposite  
sex. This had undoubtedly worked against him, since in those days it was still the rule for a lady to "let the man make  
the first move".

But sometimes, rules are made to be broken.

One afternoon, Ludwig had been teaching Matilda a simple but beautiful piece: Debussy's _Claire de Lune. _By this time she  
had learned it well enough to play it by herself. As the professor listened, he happened to glance at his violin sitting some  
feet away, and a charming idea came to him. Urging Matilda to keep playing, Ludwig rose and picked up the violin, then  
softly played the tune to accompany her. The music was so lovely that she wanted to stop playing just to listen to the  
professor.

When the last notes of _Claire de Lune _faded, Ludwig set down his violin. He was still lost in the music, and at first did  
not look at Matilda; but she was gazing up at him, her eyes shining.

"Oh, Ludwig…that was so beautiful," she said in a hushed voice.

As if awakening from a trance, the professor blinked and looked down to find heavenly blue eyes and a gentle smile that  
were sweeter than any music, and he found himself under quite another spell---and for once, at a loss for words.

Then suddenly, he felt Matilda's hand touch his…

…and it was a wonder he didn't faint.

Startled, Ludwig stumbled back against the piano, and there was a sudden crash of sour notes as the music books and  
sheets fell over the black and white keys, then onto the floor. Startled herself---and embarrassed as well---Matilda jumped  
up, her hands at her beak.

"_Ach, Himmel!" _Ludwig exclaimed, surveying the mess.

"I'm sorry, Ludwig!" Matilda stammered, turning pale, then pink. "I didn't mean to frighten you!"

"It iss all right! Lemme just pick dese up here," he replied hastily as he crawled around under the piano to gather up some  
of the music sheets; but he was so flustered that he rose up too quickly and bumped his head.

"Oh, Ludwig! Let me help you!"

"Don't worry…I am fine," groaned the dazed professor, sitting up and leaning against the piano bench. Matilda wet her  
handkerchief from a carafe of water that Ludwig kept on his desk; then she crouched next to him and gently laid the cool,  
wet cloth on his aching head.

"Poor Ludwig," she said softly. "That must hurt dreadfully…"

The delicate touch of her hands, the scent of her violet cologne and her face close to his were as soothing to Ludwig as the  
wet handkerchief. He closed his eyes and smiled blissfully as his "nurse" did her best to comfort him. Of the many accidents  
Ludwig had suffered, _this _was certainly the happiest.

"It iss not so bad now," he replied after a few moments.

"I shouldn't have touched your hand like that," she continued. "I'm sorry.. I was so caught up in the music, I didn't think…"

But Ludwig's eyes were twinkling with surprise and pleasure. "Don't be sorry, mine dear. I was only su'prised. Mine music  
never made _dat _happen b'fore," he said.

Matilda laughed a little. "I guess none of your other students reacted that way?"

"No, I don't t'ink so!" replied Ludwig, chuckling.

Then suddenly, they heard a knock at the classroom door.

"Professor Von Drake? Is everything all right?" called Dr. Vogel, who had heard the noise earlier.

"_Ja_, it iss! It _iss _all right," he continued, turning to Matilda with a warm smile.

"So I haven't been such a bad student after all, Herr Professor?" she asked modestly as they finally stood back up.

"An ex'cellent student!" the professor replied, giving her a gracious bow. "Congrat'lations, Fräulein McDuck: you haf now_  
graduated_!"

* * *

Since there was no formal diploma at hand, Ludwig treated the "graduate" to dinner that evening at the Hotel Schwanflügel.  
Like the Sacher, it was another place the professor liked to frequent, though it was far less costly to eat there.

While the couple was enjoying some wine and awaiting their meal, they listened as a quartet of musicians played some of  
the country's finest waltzes.

"Austria is such a musical country," Matilda observed dreamily. "To think that I'm in the very land of Mozart…"

"_Ach,_ you _are _knowin' your classical music!" Ludwig remarked proudly. "It iss no wonder you learned your lessons so quickly."

"Well, obviously, some of Mozart rubbed off on you, too," she said with a smile. "You're the best music teacher anyone could have!"

Before the professor could gleefully comment on that, he perked up as Johann Strauss' _Vienna Blood Waltz _began to play.

"Dis iss one of mine fav'rites!" he cried joyfully. "Matilda, will you dance wit' me?"

"I was hoping you'd ask!" she answered with delight as the professor led her out to the dance floor. She had to learn a bit of  
waltzing as well, but Ludwig was a most willing instructor.

"You really _do _teach everything, don't you?" Matilda asked, grinning as she recalled their conversation the first night.

"It iss like I said!" he answered merrily. "Are you havin' fun, mine dear?"

"Oh, ever so much fun!" she said with a joyful laugh. "This is just like they dance in all those romantic movies…"

Around and around they whirled, each caught up in their own beautiful dream: Ludwig, delirious that he had found someone  
to share his interests and pleasures; Matilda, living a romantic fantasy that she had once only read about...a fairy tale that  
would finally come true.

* * *

It was much to the professor's joy and relief that Matilda decided to stay in Vienna a week longer. With his help, she found  
more modest lodgings in the city, since the Sacher was much too ritzy for her. But her new room was attractive and cozy,  
and the food very tasty (as Ludwig could happily testify). By this time, Matilda felt she could get quite used to Austrian  
cooking. "Especially the pastries!" she added as she and Ludwig were enjoying some raspberry tarts one afternoon.

"I am glad you are stayin' longer, Matilda," Ludwig said happily. "But just out of bein' curious: why _did _you d'cide to stay  
more?"

It was with a sly smile that he asked this last question, having felt (or at least hoped) that Matilda was interested in more  
than music.

"I wanted to get to know---" Matilda glanced up and saw the professor's smile; she flushed a little, and giggled as her  
eyes quickly went to her pastry.

"Yes?" urged Ludwig with a playful grin.

"All right," Matilda admitted as she picked at a raspberry on her tart. "I wanted to get to know--_-Vienna,_ a little better."  
She looked up at him with a triumphant smile, as if to suggest he couldn't make her admit otherwise. But Ludwig von  
Drake was nobody's fool.

"Den Vienna will be very happy," he said warmly.

In the days that followed, Ludwig and his lady friend spent considerably more time together. They went to the Opera  
and the ballet, and to Mass at St. Stephan's---where Matilda did indeed love the music, and came to enjoy going to  
church again.

They went on picnics in the beautiful countryside, and strolled by the shores of the Danube. And they spoke of many  
things: their respective backgrounds, their favorite activities…but mostly, they talked about their families. They came  
to realize that both their personal lives paralleled each other in some ways; for instance, Ludwig and Matilda were  
European, but had lived in America for awhile. Each had also lost his or her parents; but unlike Matilda, Ludwig had  
been an only child.

"You are lucky, Matilda, to haf had a brother an' sister," the professor remarked wistfully, as he and his lady friend were  
enjoying a picnic by the river one Sunday.

"You think so?" she asked softly, not feeling so lucky about the "brother" at present.

"_Ja_. You did not haf to grow up alone," Ludwig replied. As a child, he had envied the neighborhood children when he  
watched them play with their brothers and sisters, knowing that his father and mother could not bless him with siblings.  
"Mama was not a strong woman, see; an' da doctor told her she couldn't have no more babies…"

"What a shame," Matilda said sadly. She couldn't have imagined growing up without Hortense, or even Scrooge---before  
he had changed, anyway.

Ludwig gave a philosophical shrug. "It could not be helped. But Papa spent lotsa time wit' me, an' I was happy bein' wit'  
him. You remember da Opera house?"

He recounted how he often went with his musician father to the Opera, and how Albert even performed in the orchestra  
now and then. "I am still remembering sitting up in da balcony wit' him. We seen _Die Walküre, Carmen_, _Pagliacci_…an' some  
of da times, when Papa played da violin in da orchestra, I sat in da front row where I could see him."

"To think your father played in that very Opera house!" marveled the McDuck lass.

"He played…_many _places," Ludwig explained proudly. "Dat is how we came to be in America, when I was a little boy. Papa  
taught me music, an' English. He taught me…many t'ings…"

Matilda hung on the professor's every word as he explained how they'd stayed in America, even through World War I. She  
was thrilled to hear of his Flying Ace days---the image of Ludwig in a uniform and soaring the skies in mortal combat, once  
and forever made him a more romantic figure than _any _cowboy. But she was saddened to hear of his father's death.

"Papa got da consumption, in 1920," Ludwig explained. "He did not live long after dat. Da doctor didn't want me ta be wit'  
him, b'cause it was easy to catch a sickness like dat." But such was his love for his father that he had defied the doctor's  
order and stayed with Albert until the end. Needless to say, Ludwig had to be checked for any signs of infection afterwards,  
but he never regretted what he did.

"Mama and I came back here to live," he continued. "I studied at da University till I b'came professor. Den Mama died, an'  
I had t'go on wit' mine work."

He spoke quietly and with little emotion, but the sorrow in his eyes was evident. Matilda's own eyes filled with tears, not  
only at Ludwig's tragedy but the memory of her particular loss.

"You must have been so lonely when I came here," she remarked softly.

"_You_ were lonely too, yes?" Ludwig replied with a gentle smile. "Dat day I first met ya? You were so lost, an' so sad…"

Matilda smiled herself as she remembered that day. "That's true."

She still hadn't told Ludwig the reason she came to Vienna---the _real _reason. Yet was _now _the right time? Seeing the  
professor's kind yet questioning eyes, she decided that maybe it was.

Thinking it best to start with the least distressing details, she talked about her earlier life in Scotland, and about her  
brother Scrooge's many adventures---in particular, those that she and Hortense had shared with him on their arrival  
to America. The professor was fascinated, and astonished as well that he had been tutoring music to the sister of  
The Richest Duck In The World.

"And now you know where you heard the name _McDuck_ before," Matilda added.

"Scrooge McDuck _iss_ famous all over da world," Ludwig remarked. "But dey never said much about his family…"

Matilda lowered her eyes; now the more painful part was coming.

"It's just as well," she said softly. "After Scrooge behaved the way he did, the last thing Hortense and I needed was  
to be in the public eye. We just got as far away from him as possible…"

The professor was stunned; having grown up with no brothers or sisters, he could scarcely imagine anyone willfully  
leaving their own relatives---worse, wanting no association with them at all.

"But…he was your _brother_, Matilda," he said incredulously. "What could he haf done so terrible, to make you an' your  
sister want ta leave him?"

Her voice was barely audible as she answered.

"It was what _he _wanted…"

"He wanted you an' your sister ta leave him? His own _family_?" blurted Ludwig. Such an idea was just as inconceivable.  
"_I_ could never haf wanted a t'ing like dat, no matter what…"

"You_ weren't _him, Ludwig. And I don't think you could ever be the person he was…the person he _became_."

She stared down at the picnic cloth that Ludwig had inherited from his mother, and traced her slender white fingers over  
a pattern in the old ivory linen. As the professor solemnly watched her, he recalled the day they met with renewed sympathy.

Her sudden arrival to his country---knowing nothing of its language or culture; her despondent manner and her reply of _"I needed  
to get away…to have a change of scenery," _when he asked why she'd come to Vienna...all had hinted at some painful incident from  
which she'd sought refuge. Until now, however, he hadn't known its exact nature.

He leaned closer to Matilda, gently taking her hand. "Please to tell me da rest."

She smiled solemnly. "That's right; you've studied psychology too. And I sound like I'd make a good patient, don't I?"

"No, Matilda." He gave her hand an encouraging squeeze. "I am not askin' as a doctor. I am askin' as your _friend_…"

Of course he was; and difficult though it might be, Matilda knew she should give him the whole story. After all, the professor  
had been most caring and helpful to her, and these past several days she had come to feel much more secure around him.  
Ludwig must feel the same way, since he had shared even the more intimate details of his life history. Could she do no less  
for him? Drawing an anxious breath, she began to unburden her soul.

She told of how Scrooge had once been a loving and devoted brother, working hard as a boy to help his impoverished family,  
then leaving home at thirteen to seek his fortune in America. For several years---with only a brief return to Scotland---Scrooge  
traveled the world, working furiously at numerous tasks to keep bread on his family's table and pay the taxes on the ancestral  
castle that was now their home. At that time, he was a brother that Matilda and Hortense could truly be proud of. But when  
Scrooge went to the Yukon to hunt for gold, things soon began to change.

"Momma died while Scroogey was away," Matilda recalled sadly. "But for years we still didn't see him. When he finally came  
back to Scotland, it was to show off how rich he'd gotten; and our neighbors in the village of McDuich despised him for that.  
Scrooge didn't seem to care; but after that he decided to go back to America for good, and take all of us with him.

"But Poppa decided to stay in Scotland, and he told Scroogey to bring Hortense and I to America hated leaving  
Poppa behind, but he wanted to live his last days in his own country. We didn't know till later that he died in the night before  
we left."

That had only been the beginning of many troubles. Not that they hadn't seen some happy times in their new homeland;  
shortly after their arrival to Fort Duckburg, Hortense met (and later married) Quackmore, son of Dabney and Elvira Duck.  
But as the city of Duckburg was being established, Scrooge's obsessive hunger for wealth increased---leading to an  
incident in Africa that would long leave a black mark on his past.

Neither Matilda nor Hortense would forget it as long as they lived: how their own brother had first swindled the Qwak Qwak  
tribe out of its diamond mine, then hired a band of thugs to burn a native village to the ground and run its people into the  
jungle--all for the sake of profiting from their land. Sadly, Scrooge's avarice did not end there, even when Matilda and Hortense  
left in disgust and returned to Duckburg.

As he heard this heartbreaking story, Ludwig shook his head sorrowfully. Was it any wonder Matilda had been hesitant to  
talk about her brother? But he listened intently, still holding her hand, as with hot tears rolling down her cheeks she added  
the final piece of the puzzle.

"We didn't see Scrooge for many more years…we never heard anything. He just went on traveling and making his business  
deals; when we finally saw him again, two months ago, his name was at the top of the Roster of the Rich. We were hoping  
_that _would make him happy at last---that he would settle down for good and want to be with his family. But Ludwig, my brother  
was never the same again after that terrible time in Africa. When he came back to us, he was more hard-hearted and greedy  
than ever. He didn't care about us anymore; he even told us, if we didn't like what he had become, we could all go away.

"Ludwig, it hurt so much to leave him…but what was the point of staying? He wasn't the person we knew anymore. So we  
only gave him what he wanted: we all went away, and never looked back.

"I didn't know what to do with myself. I felt so bad for Scroogey, for all of us…so I had to go away somewhere and be on my  
own for awhile…"

"An' here you came," Ludwig remarked softly.

"Yes," Matilda whispered, "here I came…"

He moved closer to her and gently brushed the tears from her pretty white face.

"I am glad, _Liebchen_."

It would be the first time he called her _Liebchen_, "darling". But it would only be the first of many times after that.

Matilda sniffled and tried to smile. "I'm glad, too…" Then she looked up at him. "But I don't know what I'd have done if I hadn't  
met _you_, Ludwig…"

Then her emotions got the better of her, and a second later she was sobbing on the professor's shoulder. Ludwig said nothing;  
he only held her and let her cry. He felt very strong and protective now toward this pretty lass, who had only been a stranger  
to him before. He wanted to be her proverbial knight in shining armor---her hero, like Lohengrin or Siegfried, or the other mighty  
men of his beloved operas. And like Siegfried, Ludwig felt he could slay a dragon or walk through fire for this sweet lady. He  
would fight anything, _anyone_, that would harm her or make her unhappy---yes, even The Richest Duck in the World.

* * *

It had done Matilda a world of good to tell Ludwig her troubles, and she now felt that she could put the past behind her and  
get on with her life. Thanks to her friend's kindness and support, she had found a new strength and sense of self-worth.

Towards the end of her stay in Austria, Matilda and Ludwig spent time together in earnest. The professor did the extraordinary  
thing of asking for two days off from the University, and they took a train to Salzburg, birthplace of Mozart. Ludwig even talked  
his lady friend into doing a little mountain-climbing, and she found that she enjoyed it. She remarked that it was a good way to  
work off all the rich food she had eaten in Vienna, and laughingly declared that she might have to buy a whole new wardrobe  
when she got home. Ludwig laughed with her, but insisted that she looked just fine---though he gave a glance at his own  
figure and wondered if _he _might skip a few pastries.

Matilda had come to love "the land of Mozart", though as she gazed at the Alpine countryside and breathed the crisp, fresh  
air, she found herself growing homesick for the Scottish Highlands. When the time was right, she promised herself, she would  
return to her old homeland.

The day finally came for her to go back to America, and it was with mixed emotions that she packed her bag and checked out  
of her room. She was happy to be going home, but sad to be leaving Ludwig. "I wish you were coming home with me," she  
said to him as they rode the cab to the train station. "I'd like for Hortense and Quackmore to meet you."

"One day, I will come back to America," he promised. "It has been a long time since I haf been dere. Will you come back to  
mine country, also?"

"Just as soon as I can, Ludwig. Austria is so wonderful! And now, every time I hear a waltz or play the piano, I'll think of you."

"I will t'ink of _you_ also, in mine music class," he replied, kissing her hand. "You will always be mine fav'rite student!"

They held hands all the way to the train station, where Ludwig helped Matilda with her bag. Then came the time they had  
both dreaded…the time to say goodbye. The professor took his lady friend's hands and gazed longingly into her blue eyes.

"I will miss you," he said simply.

"And I'll miss you, Ludwig," she replied.

"I will write to you letters…many letters," he vowed.

"I'll answer them right away," she promised as well. "And I'll send you postcards from America."

There was no time left to waste; and this time, a mere hand-kissing would not do. Ludwig bent to kiss Matilda's cheek, but  
just then she had turned to kiss his…and suddenly, his beak touched hers.

He pulled back quickly, a heady fusion of shock, embarrassment and pleasure surging through him. He glanced meekly at his  
lady friend, hoping she wasn't offended. But Matilda's eyes were shining, though she had been equally surprised.

"Why, Ludwig…oh, my!" she replied, blushing happily. For once, the professor's clumsiness had worked in his favor.

Just then, the conductor made the final boarding call, but now it would be harder than ever to say goodbye. Casting all  
protocol to the winds, Ludwig and Matilda hurriedly embraced.

_"Auf wiedersehen,_ _Liebchen_," he whispered.

"Goodbye, darling," she answered brokenly.

She quickly boarded the train, and Ludwig stayed on the platform as it departed, gazing after it until Matilda was out  
of sight.

----

_**End Chapter V**_

* * *

Hope this wasn't too cheesy for you all...I'm not used to writing romances. Things will really start to pick up a couple of  
chapters later. A little note, btw, about two of the German names: _Vogel _means "bird" and _Schnabel _means "beak" .  
When doing any Disney Ducks-related story, I try to stay with the tradition of bird-related names. The fictional Hotel  
Schwanflügel , or "Swan Wing Hotel", is a little tribute to the Swan and Dolphin resorts at Walt Disney World. I haven't  
stayed at them yet, but someday---God willing.


	6. First Comes Love, Then Comes Marriage

**Ludwig and Matilda:  
A Love Story**

A_ Ducktales _Fanfic

(Inspired in part by Don Rosa's _The Life and Times of Scrooge McDuck_)

Disclaimer: Ludwig von Drake, etc. are (c) Disney. _The Life and Times of Scrooge McDuck _is (c) by Don Rosa and Gemstone  
Publications. This story is (c) by me. Please don't copy, link, or use it in any wise without my permission.

* * *

_**Chapter VI:**_  
_**First Comes Love, Then Comes Marriage**_

_"In the arithmetic of love, one plus one equals everything, and two minus one equals nothing."  
--_Mignon McLaughlin  
_  
_

It had been nearly a year since Matilda returned from Austria and settled back to life in the States. Her friendship with  
Ludwig had changed her for the better, and she came home happier and far more confident about herself. It proved to  
be a mixed blessing for Hortense, since Matilda had also decided to go live on her own, insisting it was better for everyone  
involved.

"Don't you think it's a little less crowded with me gone, Hortense?" she asked her sister afterward.

Hortense sighed. "You know that never mattered to me, dear."

"Well, it mattered to _me_. I love you all, but I never felt quite right about staying in your house. I need privacy now, Hortense;  
and frankly, so do you and your family. You and Quackmore deserve a normal life with Donald and Della, without the 'maiden  
aunt' getting in the way. Besides, you'll still see me! You can come and visit anytime you like."

"_You _too," Hortense assured her. "And if things went that well in Vienna, maybe you _won't _be the 'maiden aunt' much longer!"

Which was yet another reason Matilda needed her privacy, though for the sake of her sister's feelings she left out that fact.  
As she and Ludwig had promised, they wrote each other often, even sending little gifts and pictures. Matilda was naturally  
a little bashful about the professor's correspondence, thanks to her sister's teasing---not to mention, little Donald's mischief.

"_Aunt 'Tildy gots a boyfriend! Aunt 'Tildy gots a boyfriend…" _he had run around singing one day after snatching one of Matilda's  
letters, and she chased him all over the house trying to get it back. The fun quickly ended for Donald when Hortense caught  
him and gave him a couple of good whacks on the bottom.

"Next time, keep an eye on your love letters," she told her sister with a catty smile as she handed back the note.

"Who says it's a _love _letter?" Matilda retorted, blushing hotly.

"All right, maybe it's not," Hortense answered with a wink. "And maybe pigs can_ fly_!"

Yet in the following months the letters had become more expressive and intimate (though only in a polite sense), and Matilda  
cautiously locked them up in her hope chest. She was all the more grateful now to be on her own, since she and the professor  
were even making phone calls on occasion and needed to talk without anyone listening.

By the time Ludwig wrote that he would be coming back to America to visit, there was no longer any denying that his and  
Matilda's feelings had run deeper than mere friendship.

"So we finally get to meet your boyfriend, Matilda?" Hortense asked with a mischievous grin.

Matilda laughed. " 'Boyfriend'. Honestly, Hortense, you'd think I was still a teenager! I think _gentleman caller_ would be more  
appropriate."

Her younger sister rolled her eyes. "Oh, just listen to you…_that_ handle goes all the way back to horse-and-buggy days!"

"Well, so do _we_, more or less," Matilda reminded with a wry smile. "And in Vienna, they _still _ride horses and buggies…sometimes."

Hortense laughed good-naturedly. "I know. Vienna _and _Ludwig are almost all you've talked about since you got back home.  
So,  
you really prefer a music teacher over those 'cowboys' we used to chase after?"

"I certainly do," her sister said happily. "I got over cowboys long ago, anyway."

"So when does your 'gentleman caller' get here?" asked Hortense.

"The first of next month. He wanted me to wire him and let him know of any good hotels in town."

"Can't he stay with _you_?" Hortense teased.

"Of_ course _not," was Matilda's firm reply. "But I need to find a nice place for Ludwig---we don't have anything like the Hotel  
Sacher around here."

Hortense chuckled, imagining how horrified Scrooge would have been to see Matilda staying in such a ritzy place as the Sacher.  
Well, that was _his _problem, she mused---she and Matilda had sacrificed more than enough to create the wealth he'd refused to  
share with them. _They _deserved some happiness, too; she was only sorry they couldn't have made Scrooge foot the _entire _bill  
for Matilda's stay in Austria. Let him sulk over that pitiful little dent it'd make in his mountain of money, and the devil with him.

Hortense was just as unhappy as Matilda over their rift with Scrooge, yet bore that burden in a much different way than her  
sister. Always the hothead of the family, Hortense had displayed more anger than sorrow over Scrooge's behavior. But there  
were more important things to think about with Quackmore and the children to look after, and so Hortense had little trouble  
getting on with her life.

Ever the more brash of the two, the youngest McDuck had assumed a protective role toward her older sister, rather than the  
other way around. After Scrooge's harsh acts of greed in Africa, it was Hortense's idea to return to the States with Matilda  
and leave their brother behind. Following that last dreadful quarrel with Scrooge, it was the gentle Matilda who seemed to  
have felt the rift most deeply. And it was Matilda, _not _Scrooge, that Hortense wanted to think about right now.

"Why not have Ludwig stay at our house?" Hortense suggested. "We've still got your old room, and it'd save him some  
money."

"Are you sure it's no bother?" asked Matilda, who frankly had mixed feelings about the arrangement. With their mercurial  
tempers, Hortense and Quackmore were both quick to argue, and Matilda was concerned the children (especially Donald)  
might get on the professor's nerves.

"It'll be fine--and I'll make _sure _the kids behave!" Hortense promised with a knowing grin.

"See that _you _behave, too," replied Matilda with the same expression.

* * *

The first of the following month, Ludwig stepped off his passenger ship and stood on the dock. He stared in amazement at  
the skyscrapers off in the distance---so much had changed since he had left the States.

"If Momma and Poppa could haf seen America now!" he marveled.

But he hadn't come for sightseeing. There was only _one _sight he had come for, that he'd eagerly waited for since that  
glorious Vienna summer. He kept a firm hold on his suitcase, for with his belongings there lay a special little gift he hoped  
to give to Matilda. After the many letters over the months, and much careful thought, Ludwig felt that now might be the  
time to present that gift…

When his train pulled into Matilda's hometown, he rushed out onto the platform, gazing around eagerly for any sign of his  
lady friend. To his surprise he only saw a drake in a blue suit standing some feet away and holding up a small sign reading: _  
Professor Ludwig Von Drake_. But where was Matilda? Surely this fellow could not be her boyfriend? His heart beating uneasily,  
Ludwig grabbed his suitcase and tentatively waddled over to the gentle-duck.

"Hello, Professor! I'm Quackmore Duck, Matilda's brother-in-law," the drake declared warmly. "She asked me to come and pick  
you up."

_Brother-in-law?_ Well, _that _was different. With a sigh of relief, Ludwig heartily shook Quackmore's hand. "Where is Matilda?" he  
asked anxiously. "I t'ought dat she might be meetin' me here…"

"My sis-in-law couldn't decide what to wear. She wants to make sure she looks her best for you. We were afraid we'd miss  
you by the time she made up her mind," Quackmore explained, laughing. "Women…the fuss they go to over anything!"

"Oh, _ja_!" Ludwig replied, laughing as well. He was disappointed that Matilda couldn't have met him at the station, but  
understood  
that she wanted their meeting to be special.

"So how do you like being back in America, Professor Von Drake?" Quackmore asked as they drove off.

"It iss nice, what I haf seen so far. An' please, call me Ludwig. You are Matilda's family, so you do not haf to be formal."

"All right, Ludwig." Quackmore said with a smile. He never liked to be formal, anyway. "Matilda insisted we put your whole  
name on that sign. She's sure proud of the work you do; she hasn't stopped talking about you ever since she came home!"

* * *

_  
I hope this looks all right, _Matilda thought nervously as she surveyed her reflection in the mirror. After trying on several outfits,  
she had finally decided on a lavender chiffon dress and tucked a silk daisy in her hair. Remembering how much Ludwig liked her  
violet cologne, she patted a bit of it on her pulse points. Her little niece Della watched in fascination.

"You're real pretty, Aunt Matilda!" she chirped.

"Thank you, sweetheart," Matilda replied with a warm smile. "I just hope Ludwig thinks so, too."

By this time, Quackmore's auto pulled up in front of the house, while Hortense was trying to get a rambunctious Donald to  
settle down.

"How come _I_ gotta dress up?" he complained, tugging at his starched collar. "That p'rfessor ain't _my _boyfriend!"

"Well, he came a long way to see your Aunt Matilda, so we all need to look our best and give him a warm welcome. And stop  
fussing!" Hortense scolded as she pulled Donald's hand away and adjusted his clothing. "You be nice and polite to Professor  
Von Drake while he's visiting. I _mean _it, Donald."

"Okay, okay," replied the duckling, rolling his eyes.

The doorbell rang just then; giving her son a final warning glance, Hortense went to the door and opened it---to find a  
bewildered Ludwig staring at her.

"Matilda? You are lookin' different!" he stammered as he adjusted his spectacles. "An' you iss _red-headed _now! Why did you  
change your hair colorin'?"

Hortense blinked--not so much from the remark as from Ludwig's appearance. He was hardly unattractive, but from Matilda's  
stories Hortense had expected someone---well, a _little _different from the bookish drake that gawked awkwardly at her this  
moment. Seeing the look on his wife's face, it was all Quackmore could do to stifle a laughing fit.

"Ludwig, this is Hortense---Matilda's _sister_," he explained with a grin. "We've all come over to meet you."

"_Ach_, well! It iss nice ta see you, Frau Duck!" the professor remarked, tipping his feathered hat to Hortense, who remembered  
her etiquette and let the two men in.

"So,_you're _the famous Professor Von Drake," she said, smiling. She reached out to shake his hand, and was quite startled  
when Ludwig kissed it. Quackmore winced, thinking his wife might get offended and take a swing at the professor, but surprisingly  
Hortense grinned---_now _she understood what Matilda saw in this odd fellow.

"And these are our children, Donald and Della," Quackmore declared when the twins came up.

"Hi, P'rfesser!" they both said together.

"Allo, kiddies!" Ludwig said, smiling down at them. Della squealed happily as the professor also gave her tiny hand a kiss, but  
Donald warily drew back.

"You ain't kissin' _my_ hand, are ya?" he asked dubiously.

"Donald…" warned Hortense, but the professor laughed heartily.

"Off course not, mine little man! Da men-folks shake hands, yes?" He gently shook Donald's small hand, and the duckling  
grinned in relief.

"Ludwig?" called a soft voice at the top of the stairs.

Ludwig's attention changed at once. There stood Matilda on the landing, smiling sweetly at him and looking prettier than  
ever before. He was glad now that she had waited to meet him, and as Matilda started down the staircase Ludwig rushed  
up and gallantly escorted his lady friend downstairs.

" 'ello, Matilda," he said happily when they reached the bottom landing. "I haf missed you!"

"I've missed you too, Ludwig," she answered gently.

Noting the couples' affectionate gazes, Hortense whispered to Quackmore: "You'd think there was nobody else in the  
room right now."

Aware that they were attracting attention, Matilda lightly cleared her throat. "So…would you care for some coffee, Ludwig?  
I've made sandwiches, and Hortense brought a chocolate cake, too."

"Oh, _ja! _Dat vill be nice!" he said happily, always ready for such a treat.

"_I'll_ get the refreshments," Hortense said with a grin as she urged the couple toward the sofa. "And Quackmore and the kids  
will help me, right guys?"

Quackmore raised a dubious eyebrow, but a look from Hortense was more than hint enough. "Oh sure, sure! Come on kids,  
let's go help Mommy."

He quickly ushered Della and a grumbling Donald into the kitchen, and Matilda giggled as they departed.

"I think they're trying to give us some privacy," she said. "I'm sorry I couldn't have met you at the station, Ludwig."

"Dot iss alright," he answered, beaming. "I like dat you met with me here. Your sister an' brudder-in-law are nice, da kiddies too.  
I must t'ank dem for lettin' me stay wit' dem."

"At least you won't have to spend any money on a hotel---or food, either," Matilda assured him. "Hortense is a pretty good  
cook. Of course," she added wisely, "_I'm _the one who taught her…"

"I_ heard _that," Hortense said with a wicked smirk as she set down a tray of coffee and finger sandwiches, while Della brought  
in the cream and sugar and Quackmore set the chocolate cake on the coffee table.

"Well, it's true," Matilda replied with a saucy little smile.

Donald, who had helped by simply staying out of the way, snatched a couple of finger sandwiches and crawled onto the sofa  
next to the couple, blissfully ignoring Matilda's wary glance. Yet he ate quietly as the grownups talked, though he kept one  
eye on the cake and another on Ludwig---wondering, like Hortense had earlier, what on earth his aunt found so fascinating.  
But after some minutes of trying to understand the professor's broken English, Donald soon became aggravated---a trait that  
came far  
too easily to him.

Suddenly, Ludwig felt a tug at his sleeve and turned to find the duckling frowning up at him.

"You talk funny," Donald said plainly.

"_Donald!"_ Matilda and Hortense both exclaimed in horror.

"I didn't mean nothin'," Donald insisted.

Fortunately, Ludwig did not appear to be offended. He laughed and patted Donald's head. "Da Professor _does _talk kinda  
funny, don't he? But dat's b'cause I am from anudder country. I am from Austria."

"Austria?" Della asked excitedly. "Did you see any kangaroos?"

Ludwig blinked, then laughed lightly as he realized the little girl's mistake. "_Ach_, you are t'inkin' of _Australia_, little one," he explained.  
"Where _I_ am comin' from, da only kangaroos are in da zoo!"

"Yeah. Girls are so stupid," Donald muttered.

"Are_ not_!" Della protested. Donald started to stick his tongue out at her, but quickly pulled it back under the warning glare of  
Hortense, who was just serving out the dessert.

"I guess _someone _doesn't want any cake," she declared firmly, and the mischievous little duckling immediately settled down.

"Sorry," he muttered, with a half-repentant look.

"_I'm_ sorry, too," Matilda blushingly told the professor, but Ludwig chuckled; he seemed more amused than annoyed by  
Donald's impish behavior.

"Are you sure you want to stay with us, Ludwig?" Quackmore asked with an embarrassed grin. "Donald can be a handful  
all by himself."

"It will be all right," Ludwig replied. "I like little kiddies." He cast his lady friend a hopeful glance; Hortense and Quackmore  
gave each other knowing looks and quickly focused on their coffee and cake.

"How long will you stay in America, Ludwig?" Hortense asked at last.

"I haf left da University for t'ree weeks…though some of da staff said I could stay away from dere as long as I wanted."  
He was secretly suspicious about the meaning of that statement.

"You _can _stay as long as you want," Matilda insisted. "And I'll see that you have as much fun here as I did in Vienna."

"Already I am havin' fun," he replied with a warm smile.

* * *

Ludwig thoroughly enjoyed his time with Matilda and the Duck family. Just as he had shown his lady friend the sights and  
sounds of Vienna, so did she re-introduce him to the America he had only known for a short time. They visited the art museum  
and the theater, went to concerts---and once to a nightclub to listen to some jazz. There was also a ballroom downtown, and  
some nights the couple went dancing there.

Not that Matilda could spend her every waking hour with Ludwig. She had recently taken a job as office clerk at J.C. Pinfeather  
& Co., so she met with her friend at lunch and after work. Left to his own devices during much of the day, Ludwig spent part  
of the time at the library or roaming around through town; sometimes he just stayed at the Ducks' house and managed to  
keep himself busy. Not wishing to be a burden to Hortense and her family, Ludwig helped with the housework and cooking---  
or _tried _to, anyway. His intentions were the best, but the results were often a disaster.

"Maybe I bedder take ya all out ta supper," he humbly said one evening, after watching everyone try to choke down a roast  
the professor had burned to a crisp.

"That's…quite nice of you, Ludwig," Quackmore replied with a relieved smile.

"And by the way, you don't have to do the dishes, either," put in Hortense. Her voice was friendly, but Ludwig caught a warning  
glint in her eye and chuckled uneasily. He'd had to stay well out of her way yesterday, after a bungled attempt to wash her best  
china. It was only after he bought a new set of dishes that he felt safe enough to come back to the house.

It was no easy feat for Hortense to keep her patience---even for her sister's sake. Fortunately for Ludwig, he had heard about  
her infamous temper and could tell when a "storm" was brewing.

"_Whose _idea was it to let him stay here?" Matilda reminded her sister during a visit that weekend.

"Is it too late to change my mind?" suggested Hortense.

"Probably," Matilda said, laughing lightly. "Where _is_ Ludwig, anyway? We were going to the movies this evening."

"He's down in the basement, working on some crazy thing," replied her sister. "Donald and Della are down there watching him."  
Since Ludwig missed his little laboratory at home, he graciously asked the Ducks' permission to set one up in their basement (he  
was sure Hortense would have a fit if he used his room). But Matilda had seen some of Ludwig's experiments, and was far too  
aware of the dangers.

"You let him set up a lab--in _your _basement?" she asked in sudden concern. "Are you sure that's such a good--"

A sudden howl of pain from downstairs cut her sentence short, and at the sound of someone yelping and stamping the two women  
rose quickly and opened the basement door. Matilda caught the smell of burnt feathers and feared the worst.

"Ludwig!" she called anxiously. "Are you all right?"

Suddenly, in rushed little Donald, clutching his fanny and wailing like a banshee. Ludwig ran in behind him, holding a bucket of water  
and trying to catch Donald. Della followed, startled but amused as well.

"Donald, I am tryin' ta put da fire out!" panted the professor. "Stand still, like a good little ducky!"

"_Waaaaughhh! Waaaaaaaaugh! Waaaaaaaaaaaugh!" _wailed Donald, running circles around everybody until Hortense and Matilda caught  
him---just in time for Ludwig to throw the bucket of water. Needless to say, he wound up drenching everybody.

"_Oh_, Ludwig!" Matilda exclaimed with dismay as she looked down at her wet dress.

"Uh-oh dere," he said uneasily. "I am _so _sorry, ladies!" If a look from Hortense could have killed that moment, poor Ludwig would  
have dropped dead on the spot.

"Do I dare ask what happened here?" she snapped.

"Just a liddle acc'dent," Ludwig explained, wiping his brow. "I _told_ Donald ta stay avay from da Bunsen burner."

Hortense gave a short, dry laugh; she was hardly surprised that Donald hadn't listened. She scowled down at her son, who was  
clutching her wet dress and still wailing, even though his tail was just barely singed.

"Calm down, Donald---you're okay now!"

"_Waaaaaaaaugh! Waaaaaaaaaaugh!" _Donald continued to howl, and Ludwig frowned mildly at the little duckling.

"Dat's enough now, Donald," he said firmly, with a stern shake of his finger. "You are not a baby! You be a liddle man for your  
momma an' Aunt Matilda!"

His forceful command seemed so out of the blue that Hortense and Matilda stared at him in shock; but to their even greater  
surprise, Donald actually _stopped _his caterwauling. He sniffled and glared daggers at the professor.

"Oh, yeah?" he retorted. "Why don't ya stay with Aunt Matilda, ya crazy egghead!"

Matilda's jaw dropped. _"Donald!"_ she exclaimed angrily. She was too stunned to say much else.

"All right, _that's _it," declared Hortense, taking Donald firmly by the arm. "Off to your room you go. You're lucky your tail's burnt, or  
you'd be in for the spanking of your _life_, little man!"

As she started to drag a pouting Donald upstairs, she muttered an apology to the professor, but whispered to her sister, "Marry  
that man before he kills us all!"

After mother and child were upstairs, Matilda went up to Ludwig, who looked embarrassed and rather hurt by Donald's remark.

"Why, that little monster! I'm so sorry, Ludwig," she said, gently putting her arms around him and kissing his cheek. He smiled  
sheepishly.

"It iss okay. I am sorry I got your pretty dress all vet, M'tilda."

Matilda only laughed. "Never mind that, dear. We'll stop at my place and I'll get changed."

"I should not haf said dose t'ings ta Donald," Ludwig admitted as they were leaving.

"But Donald stopped crying when you said those things. He _is_ a little old to be acting like that. You gave him just what he needed."

"But I am not his poppa," he insisted. "I was actin' like _mine_ poppa used to."

Ludwig's father came from a background where males weren't allowed to openly show their emotions, an attitude that slightly  
affected his parenting skills. Once when Ludwig was seven, he had run weeping to his father with a broken toy; it was one of  
very few times that the gentle Albert von Drake was stern with his son, for crying was a major _faux pax _in that particular circle  
of men---even when those men were only little boys.

"That will do, Ludwig," he had said with a mild frown. "You _must _be a little man. It is not a manly thing to cry…"

Yet even as he scolded his son for crying, Albert kindly took the toy and repaired it; for even as he sought to teach Ludwig manly  
virtues, he was not ashamed to show his love for his son. That had been one of the things Ludwig admired most about the man.

"I guess some of Poppa came outta me wit' liddle Donald t'day," Ludwig explained with a chuckle.

"I think Mr. Von Drake did a fine job raising his son," Matilda remarked proudly. "I'm sure you'll make a terrific father yourself."

The professor smiled happily when he heard her words, for he was hoping to do just that.

* * *

After Donald's mishap with the Bunsen burner---and the craziness that had followed---Ludwig halted his experiments and mostly  
kept out of the way. He had quickly realized things would be better for him and Matilda if he stayed on the Duck family's more  
benevolent side.

Things _did _get better, in fact. After considerable urging from Matilda and his parents, Donald apologized to the professor for the  
mean things he'd said. Since Ludwig felt at least half-responsible for the duckling's burnt tail feathers, he took the twins out for  
ice cream; and Donald came to feel that this eccentric professor who "talked funny" was a pretty good sort after all.

Seeing that Ludwig was no longer a safety threat to her household, Hortense warmed up to her future brother-in-law and  
allowed herself to see his finer qualities. She had to find him amusing at times, and despite the recent Bunsen burner incident  
he treated the twins quite well. Ludwig's chivalry toward Matilda, his pleasant manner and kindness, especially touched  
Hortense---and fairly made up for any inconvenience of being his hostess.

"It's a good thing you can cook," she noted to Matilda. "Ludwig eats like a _horse_! Though at least he enjoys my cooking a  
lot," she added justly.

"And at least he's _not _doing the dishes?" her sister joked.

"Oh Lord, _yes_! But he does offer to help, and he keeps his room clean. I have to _make _the kids clean up their own rooms. I've  
been wondering, though," Hortense asked with a sly smile, "you don't suppose Ludwig's come over for something besides a  
regular visit, do you?"

Matilda blushed, but could make no reply. Actually, she _was _hoping Ludwig might propose to her, but she didn't dare to expect  
too much. After all, she and Ludwig had only known each other a year. Wasn't that too soon? Yet there had been hints that  
their relationship could get more serious…

_Much_ more serious, in fact. As the time drew near for Ludwig to return to Austria, he became unusually quiet and thoughtful.  
One afternoon, Hortense was bringing some fresh sheets to his room and caught him looking at something in a small velvet  
box. She pretended not to notice, though Ludwig gave her a startled glance and quickly put the box away.

But it was Hortense's turn to be startled when Ludwig later approached her and Quackmore with the following request:

"Missus Duck? I would like ta ask for da hand of your sister in marry-age..."

--

_**End Chapter VI**_

* * *

A/N: I'm trying to get in the habit of leaving my notes at the bottom so my readers can get on with the story. But before you  
go on to the next chapter (coming up), I think you all deserve some explanation about Scrooge's family.

You may have noticed that I've never mentioned where Matilda and Hortense _et al_ went after their fight with Scrooge, nor do  
I give the name of Matilda's hometown. In _Life and Times, _all Don Rosa suggests is that Scrooge's relatives "disappeared from  
public life", and seems to give no other information.

What happened during those lost years? Did they remain in Duckburg, or did they go elsewhere in the States? Details are  
sketchy; but what_ is _certain is that at some point in his childhood, Donald Duck had to be raised by Grandma Duck--_and _in  
Duckburg. What became of Donald's parents and sister has long been a mystery, and we hope in the near future Mr. Rosa will  
give us that final piece of the puzzle. Until then, forgive me if I end up (no pun intended) winging it.

**UPDATE: I've just found out that Don Rosa is facing eye surgery for a detached retina. To save strain on his eyesight, he  
will no longer be working on any Disney comics. Needless to say, this is sad news to Disney comic fans (like me), but Mr.  
Rosa's health is more important. Please keep him in your prayers.**


	7. Whither Thou Goest, I Will Go

**Ludwig and Matilda: A Love Story**

A _Ducktales _Fanfic

(Inspired in part by Don Rosa's _The Life and Times of Scrooge McDuck_)

Disclaimer: Ludwig von Drake, etc. are (c) Disney. _The Life and Times of Scrooge McDuck _is (c) by Don Rosa and Gemstone  
Publications. This story is (c) by me. Please do not copy, link, or use it in any wise without my permission.

--

_**Chapter VII:**_

_**Whither Thou Goest, I Will Go**_

_"Love is composed of a single soul inhabiting two bodies."--_Aristotle

* * *

Hortense could hardly believe what she had just heard, and for a second she felt like she'd gone back to the 19th century---  
since Ludwig's request obviously seemed to _belong _there. But this was modern-day America; and she wasn't Matilda's mother,  
for heaven's sake.

"You want to _what_?" she asked incredulously.

"I am askin' for da hand of your sister," Ludwig repeated, looking a little nervous. "Ta marry her…"

"But Ludwig," suggested Quackmore, "shouldn't you be asking _Matilda_?"

The professor laughed and replied that of _course _he would ask Matilda, but he wished to be proper about it. "She has no momma an'  
poppa anymore," he explained, "an' you are her only family. I only vant to be sure, dat I haf da family's blessing…"

Touched by Ludwig's courtesy, Hortense had to smile. "That's very decent of you, Ludwig; and if Matilda wants to marry you, that's  
perfectly all right with me. But Ludwig, you be good to her," she added firmly.

"I will…you know dat I will," insisted the professor, crossing his heart, and Hortense could see in his eyes that he meant it.

"Then in that case," she assured him with a smile, "you officially have my blessing."

"Oh, t'ank you! T'ank you!!" Ludwig exclaimed happily, kissing Hortense's hand and shaking Quackmore's. "I will ask her dis ev'ning!"

They watched him as he all but waltzed to his room, and Quackmore shook his head withan amused grin.

"I don't know, Hortense…do you think you did the right thing?" he asked his wife.

"If those two really love each other," she replied, "then I did. I just want Matilda to be happy…she deserves it."

* * *

_  
He's unusually quiet tonight, _Matilda noted. _It's certainly __**not **__like him._

They had just returned from dinner at Chez Quille, one of the finest restaurants in town. All that evening, the professor had done  
much less talking than normal (for him, that is). He also seemed rather preoccupied, and had all but picked at his food. Matilda was  
sadly aware that Ludwig had only two days left before he returned to his country; perhaps he was troubled about leaving. She  
preferred not to think about it herself; there _had _been some awkward moments with Ludwig and her family, but it had truly been  
a happy time---and she wished it would never have to end.

Yet somehow, she had a feeling that there was something special about this evening.

In the back garden outside of Matilda's apartment building, they were sitting in a small gazebo twined with jasmine and honeysuckle  
vines. Ludwig fingered the little velvet box in the pocket of his dinner jacket; all through that evening, he had tried to plan the right  
moment to present it to his lady friend, but was so nervous he could barely get through his meal. Yet he knew he'd have to get up  
the courage to ask her his question sooner or later.

And now as they sat together, the air perfumed with sweet blossoms, Ludwig decided to take the plunge.

"Matilda," he said slowly, "you know dat I will be leavin' in a couple days."

"I know. I'll really miss you," she answered sadly.

He turned to her. "You love me, don't ya, Matilda?" he asked, taking hold of her hands.

"Of course I do, Ludwig..."

"An' I love _you_," he said earnestly. "But you do not haf ta miss me. We could be together always…if you want it so."

He got down on one knee, took out the velvet box and opened it. Inside was an heirloom diamond and sapphire ring.

"Matilda," Ludwig asked in a quavering voice, "will you marry me?"

The words were barely out of his beak when Matilda threw her arms around his neck and hugged him wildly. "Yes, yes, I _will_!!" she  
cried. She was nearly strangling him, but he was too thrilled to care very much. Laughing, he hugged her back---gently, of course.

"I am so happy, _Liebling_!" he said, once he was able to sit down. "I want ta make _you _happy, too."

Matilda trembled with joy as Ludwig slipped the ring onto her finger. "You always have, Ludwig," she said softly.

"Do you like da ring?" he asked, almost shyly.

"It's the most beautiful ring I've ever seen," she replied.

He clasped her hand and smiled tenderly. "It was Momma's…Poppa gave it to her when dey got engaged, too."

That Ludwig would offer such a precious heirloom spoke a great deal of the love in his heart, and Matilda was too touched to  
comment for the time being.

"So," said the professor at last, "we pick a date for da wedding, yes?"

Since Ludwig and Matilda were mature adults, a long engagement was neither necessary nor desirable; so six months seemed a  
respectable enough time. They both wanted a "church" wedding, but for the sake of her family's finances Matilda felt a moderate  
ceremony was best.

"But I still want to wear a really nice gown," she insisted, "even if I have to sew it up myself."

"I want you ta haf da best weddin' ever, Matilda," the professor declared. "You _should _haf nice t'ings!"

"We'll be together, darling…that's what really matters."

"I cannot wait ta gif da news to your fam'ly!" he said excitedly. "We'll all be so happy!"

He was fairly dancing with anticipation and joy, and Matilda had to laugh as she watched him; Ludwig was like a little boy who'd  
gotten just what he wanted for Christmas. The thought ofspending her life with this delightful drake made _her _feel like dancing,  
too. Such was their excitement that, late though it was, they already began planning the details of their wedding, and for their life  
together.

"I am savin' some moneys already," Ludwig said, "for to get us a fine house. I haf been holdin' back moneys for a long time now."

The McDuck lass smiled sympathetically, wondering how many pastries and other luxuries Ludwig must have sacrificed. "I'll save  
some money too," she promised.

"An' it will soon be spring in Vienna," Ludwig said happily, "when we go ta live dere. Da flowers will be bloomin' in da countryside. I  
know dat you love flowers…"

But instead of pleased, Matilda looked startled. "What? _Where_?"

"_Vienna," _Ludwig repeated with a puzzled smile. "Where we are goin' ta live, yes?"

Yet to his astonishment, his lady friend seemed stunned at the prospect.

Sometimes--too often, in fact--just when it seems Fortune has smiled on a person beyond their wildest hopes, and one's dreams  
have finally come true, some little complicating thing happens to totally shatter the idyll.

Somehow, Matilda had assumed that she and Ludwig would live in America. It just seemed to make sense. Her family was here,  
after all---what was _left _of it, anyway. The prospect of leaving them behind and going to live so far had only now occurred to her.  
Worried and perplexed that his fiancée had suddenly gone pale, Ludwig gently took her shoulders.

"What is wrong?" he asked. "Are you feelin' sick?"

"No…not exactly," Matilda replied faintly.

"But why do you look so?"

"We'd have to live in Austria? But Ludwig, that's so far away," she said slowly.

"But Austria iss where I _live_, Matilda," Ludwig replied, blinking. "It iss where I am teaching. Da University, r'member?  
Where I taught you ta play piano?"

She drew a nervous breath, not sure how to explain her feelings without hurting his.

"Don't ya _want _ta go live dere wit' me, _Liebling_?" was Ludwig's bewildered question.

"I…I don't know…"

It was Ludwig's turn to be stunned. "You don't know? But I thought dat you _loved _my country---dat you were happy dere.  
You told me so…did you not mean what you said?"

"Of course I meant it," she insisted. "But Ludwig, my family is _here_. You know what they mean to me, don't you?"

"I _do _know dat. I haf known dat for a long time now."

"Couldn't we just live _here_, Ludwig?" Matilda pleaded. "You lived in the States before. You like it here, don't you?"

The professor sighed heavily. "_Ja_…I do. But…" He stood up slowly and shook his head. "…dat iss not da point, Matilda! I _haf _ta  
stay in Austria. Mine work iss over dere…much of mine _life _iss dere. You cannot be askin' me ta drop all of dat, ta leave it behind."

"But you're asking _me _to leave my family behind…my _family_, Ludwig!" Matilda replied anxiously. "Hortense and Quackmore, and the  
twins---they're all I have left now! How can I just turn my back on them, and go live thousands of miles away?"

Ludwig stared at her, incredulous that their moment of happiness had suddenly been turned upside down.

"Do you t'ink dat your family means not'ing to me, Matilda? I want dem ta be _my _family, too…_I_ haf no family, remember? I am not  
askin' you ta leave dem," he continued. "I am only askin' you to spend your life wit' me. But now…you are not happy to do dat."

"Ludwig, you don't understand…"

"No…I do _not_," he answered unhappily. "Did you not say, all dat mattered was dat we be together? But it _iss _matterin' after all, yes?"

He wandered over to the gazebo porch and glumly leaned against one of the posts. Matilda watched him sadly; it nearly broke her  
heart that Ludwig might think she'd lied to him, though she simply hadn't thought the whole situation out. She rose and went over  
to the professor, gently slipping her arms around him and laying her head on his shoulder. He clasped one of her hands, but said  
nothing.

"Ludwig," Matilda said softly, "I _was _being truthful with you. I just didn't expect it to turn out this way. But Ludwig, I _love _you."

"I love you too," he answered brokenly. "I did not mean ta make t'ings hard for you."

"It…it isn't your fault. Please, darling…I'm not saying I _won't _marry you. I'm not saying that at all."

He turned to look into her deep blue eyes. "Den what _are _ya sayin'?"

"I'm saying that we should wait…"

His heart sank. "Wait? But until when?"

"Until…until we can work something out. Surely we can find a way around this…"

He sighed and nodded dully. "Okay, den…" He looked down at the ring glistening on his lady friend's finger.

"You can keep da ring…if ya want to."

"I do, Ludwig," she whispered. "It means very much to me…"

He smiled a little then and kissed her goodnight. But when he went off to hail a cab, Ludwig thought he heard Matilda crying as  
she walked back to her apartment.

* * *

After Ludwig returned to the Duck residence, Hortense and Quackmore would have guessed something wasn't right when he  
refused the offer of coffee and dessert--but the look on hisface already said more than enough.

"The poor guy looks like he got his face slapped," Quackmore told his wife. "Your sister must have turned him down."

Hortense shook her head in sympathy. "_Something _went wrong, that's for sure. Maybe you could have a word with him, dear; he  
might feel better with another man to talk to."

But Ludwig didn't want to discuss the matter even with Quackmore, and slunk off to his room.

He lay on his bed and stared up at the ceiling, trying to figure out how the happiest night of his life had suddenly become one of  
his worst nights on Earth.

He could understand Matilda's feelings about leaving her family; after all, _he _cared about her family, too. But wasn't the wife _  
supposed _to go live with her husband? Wasn't that the natural order of things?

Yes, she had insisted she still wanted to marry him…but _wait_, she'd said. For how long, though? They weren't getting any younger,  
after all. She might as well have said: _Forget it, fella_.

His spirits completely low, Ludwig turned over with his face to the wall. Just an hour earlier he'd been on top of the world--and now,  
he felt like a fool.

Just then, he heard a knock at the door, and Hortense's voice.

"Ludwig? Can I talk to you?" she called.

"_No_. Please, go," he implored firmly.

"I'm not going until we talk about this."

He groaned and rolled his eyes. _Women_. Why did they always have to be so difficult? And to think he'd wanted to _marry _one of them…

He rose and opened the door. "What iss it, Missus Duck?" he asked irritably. "I did not want ta talk to your husband, an' now here _  
you _are!"

"What happened tonight?" Hortense asked. "Did you and Matilda fight or something?"

"Not exacta-ly," was Ludwig's uncertain reply.

"She turned down the engagement, didn't she?"

"Not exacta-ly."

Hortense narrowed her eyes. "Well, what _did _happen--_exactly_?" she demanded.

"Please leaf me alone," Ludwig insisted angrily. "I do _not _want ta talk about it, so why do you make me? If you want ta know what  
happened, ask your sister!"

"I will. But now I'm asking _you_, and it might help to talk about it," Hortense said pointedly. "You studied psychology, didn't you? I  
thought psychologists _believed _in talking about problems."

He gawked at her helplessly and sighed. _Touché._

"All right, den," was his sullen reply.

Hortense smiled triumphantly as she urged the professor downstairs. "Come along to the kitchen,Ludwig. I'll make you some tea,  
and we'll talk."

* * *

_  
How could this happen? _Matilda thought as she sat forlornly in her living room. She'd had the radio on earlier, but when a piano  
concerto started playing she quickly shut it off--it reminded her too much of Ludwig's music lessons, and she had enough painful  
feelings about him right now.

She couldn't get over the hurt and disappointment in his eyes when she'd asked him to wait on their engagement. But she thought  
he _understood _about her family. After all, hadn't he comforted her over that rift with her brother Scrooge? Yet all of a sudden, he  
expected her to leave what kinfolk now remained, to go live with him in a place whose culture, customs and language were still  
completely foreign to her.

_He was an only child, _she mused. _If he'd had a regular family, he might have understood my feelings better. _But Ludwig was alone,  
with no one to leave behind but colleagues, and perhaps friends. His life and his work were in Vienna, he had told her; but would _  
he _be making a greater sacrifice than he asked of _her_? Yes, there was the Opera house, and all the lovely things they'd seen; but  
for pity's sake, they could _still _take a trip to Austria now and then.

She sighed heavily; too many thoughts were racing through her head. It was getting late anyway, and she was too tired and  
discouraged to think clearly. Maybe by tomorrow morning, she could figure something out.

Just as she rose to get ready for bed, there came a knock at her door. Matilda frowned; who on earth could be coming to visit _  
now_?

"Who is it?" she called anxiously, and was relieved to hear her sister's voice. But when she opened the door, she was stunned to  
find an angry Hortense glowering at her.

"What the hell is _wrong _with you, Matilda?" exclaimed Hortense, storming into the apartment before her sister could even greet her.  
"Have you completely lost your mind?"

"I could ask _you _the same thing!" shot back Matilda. She closed the door quickly, hoping the neighbors hadn't heard anything. "What  
made you come all the way out here to bite my head off like that?"

"I think you should know I had a little talk with your gentleman caller," Hortense informed her.

Matilda frowned; she had fully intended to tell Hortense about that evening, and wished she'd had the chance to talk to her first.

"You mean Ludwig told you what happened tonight?" she asked with dismay.

"Well, he didn't want to," Hortense said simply, "but I charmed it out of him."

"I'll _bet _you did."

"This is no time for sarcasm, sister dear. Ludwig was quite unhappy when he came home tonight, and I don't blame him. What were  
you thinking, Matilda? Ludwig _adores _you!"

"Look, Hortense," sighed Matilda, "I appreciate what you're trying to do, but don't you think Ludwig and I should handle this by  
ourselves? I don't meddle when you and Quackmore argue--which is quite often, I've noticed. Why must you get involved in this?"

"Because you're about to make the biggest mistake of your life, and I love you too much to let it happen," her sister declared.  
"Besides, I've come to like Ludwig. We all have, even Donald."

"But you keep saying Ludwig's crazy," Matilda replied with a stiff smile.

Hortense gave a dry chuckle. "He _is_. But he loves you…I see it in his eyes, every time he looks at you. Matilda, that man would do  
anything for you. And you love him, too. If you don't marry him, _you're _the one who's crazy!"

"I never said I _wouldn't _marry him! I only asked him to--"

"To _wait_---he told me. What's all this baloney about making him wait to marry you?"

Matilda sat abruptly down on the couch. "Well, since he must have told you everything, then do I need to explain it? Hortense, he  
wants me to go all the way to Austria with him!"

"Well, of course! He _lives _there, doesn't he?" insisted Hortense. "The wife goes to live with the husband---that's _usually _the way it  
works. Didn't you have a good time over in Austria? You couldn't stop talking about it after you came back here. But now you're putting  
poor Ludwig off just because you're suddenly afraid to go live there with him. For pity's sake, Matilda, you're a grown woman! You have  
to leave the nest _sometime_---"

"I _am _afraid, Hortense!" Matilda blurted. "Maybe _you _could go on with your life after that awful fight with Scroogey; but I'm still hurt  
that he drove us away from him--and it haunts me to think about him sitting in that money bin all alone. I miss him, Hortense…and  
I miss Momma and Poppa. _You're _all I have left now."

Hortense softened. "Oh, honey," she said kindly as she sat down and hugged her sister, "I know. I miss them, the same as you. And  
maybe I don't show it much, but _I'm_ sad about Scroogey, too. I guess with Quackmore and the kids, I haven't had much time to think  
about it…

"But Scrooge made his choices, and he has to live with them. Maybe one day, he'll look up from his big pile of money and see the light…  
_maybe_. But you and I have _our _lives to live, Matilda, and we've got to go on. That's what Momma and Poppa would want."

"But Hortense, the idea of leaving you like that--of completely uprooting my life, and leaving everything familiar to me…"

Her younger sister smiled. "It won't be the _first _time, Matilda…remember? You and I, and Scrooge? When we left Scotland and came  
over here, you weren't frightened then. We were excited about going to America, and so full of hopes and dreams…and remember all  
those fascinating places we went to with Scroogey, the adventures we had together? Sure, we went through some crazy times, and  
we got mad at Scrooge for being so stubborn and greedy. But we had nice times, too…at least for awhile."

"But things were different then, Hortense. Momma and Poppa were gone, but the three of us at least had each other. And even after  
Scrooge turned his back on us, there was still you two, and the twins." Donald could be bratty, but he could be sweet, too; and Matilda  
loved him and Della as though they were her own. And Quackmore had very much filled the void left by Scrooge, being more like a brother  
than an in-law to her.

"After all we've been through," she continued, "the very thought of leaving you now just turns my blood cold."

Hortense frowned solemnly. She could understand Ludwig's frustration, which nearly paralleled her own. As happy as she was to have  
married Quackmore (despite their constant fights), she had always felt a certain sadness for her older sister, who at least by tradition  
should have been the first to get a husband. Yet now that she'd finally found a suitable mate, Matilda was getting cold feet---and might  
possibly lose what could be her last chance for happiness.

But Hortense understood her sister's anxiety as well; the prospect of marriage alone had its share of uncertainties, and to start such a  
new life in a strange country had to be a _little _scary. Yet any change, even a good one, was full of risks. It was time now for Matilda to  
live her own life.

Hortense took her sister's shoulders and said firmly, "Honey, listen to me. You and Ludwig need each other in the worst way---you really _  
want _to get married, and I want to see it happen. You finally have a chance to make a life for yourself; and if you miss that chance, you'll  
spend the rest of your life eating your heart out for what might have been.

"You've taken many a leap of faith before, Matilda--this time, take it for _yourself_, and for that crazy duck who loves you."

Matilda lowered her eyes solemnly; seeing that her sister still appeared uncertain, Hortense promised her that mere distance would not separate them. "We can still write to each other, and we'll even save up to visit you two now and then. I'd love to see some of Austria---  
though I dread turning Donald loose on some other poor country!"

The McDuck lass had to laugh--it wasn't hard to imagine the trouble her nephew could get into.

"Speaking of Donald," Hortense said, rolling her eyes, "I'd better get on home and make sure he's not tormenting Ludwig---or Della,  
anyway. But just think about what I said, okay?"

"I will," Matilda said softly, hugging her sister. "Thank you, Hortense."

She watched until Hortense disappeared into the elevator, then sighed and closed the door.

_**She **__should have been the big sister, not me, _she mused as she went to her bedroom and changed into her nightgown. But even  
though her sister's words had been some comfort, Matilda could not sleep. She was worried about Ludwig's feelings, and still unsure  
about their future together.

_It's times like this that I miss Momma and Poppa the most, _she thought mournfully. _This couldn't be a __worse __time for them to be gone._

She wondered what her parents would have thought of Ludwig. Surely they would have liked him, though the professor's eccentric  
character might have made them a little uneasy. Matilda could clearly picture her father shaking his head in disbelief.

"T'is a good lad, he is," Fergus might have said, "but air ye _sure _ye want tae marry 'im, lassie? Crazy as a loon, that one!"

"Aye, Ludwig _is _a nice fellow, Matilda," Downy would have put in, "but a wee peculiar…"

What Scrooge might have thought of Ludwig, Matilda could only guess--most likely, he'd have agreed with Fergus. But had Ludwig  
been a wealthy aristocrat, Scrooge wouldn't have cared _how _crazy the man was. At least Hortense and Quackmore could be counted  
on for support, but it wasn't quite the same. At such a time as this, Matilda ached for her parents' presence more than ever.

She turned on her lamp and picked up an old photograph of Fergus and Downy McDuck from her nightstand. Sometimes when she was especially lonely for them, she would look at that picture and talk to them, as if they were in the room with her. Perhaps they were; her  
mother had once said that the souls of departed loved ones stood close to those who thought of them. Matilda thus believed that her parents---and maybe all of the departed McDucks---still watched over the last of their family.

_I wish you were with me now, _Matilda thought as she gazed sadly at the beloved, long-dead faces. _I miss you so badly, Poppa and Momma.  
I know you're up in Heaven praying for me…please help me make the right choice._

She put the photograph away and once again tried to sleep. As she lay gazing restlessly around her moonlit room, her eyes fell on an  
old family Bible sitting on her nightstand. It was written in Gaelic and had been a wedding gift to her father. She then recalled many a  
cozy evening when they gathered in the parlor after supper, and Fergus read a chapter or two out loud. Scrooge and Hortense barely  
paid attention, but Matilda had hung on every word.

She could almost hear her father's strong but gentle voice reading from the Gospels, and the Old Testament tales of long ago. One of  
her favorites had been The Book of Ruth; but as she reflected on that time-honored love story, a passage from its first chapter now  
crept through her memories--and suddenly held a meaning all its own:

"_Entreat me not to leave thee, nor from following after thee; for whither thou goest, I will go; whither thou lodgest, I will lodge; __**thy people  
shall be my people…**__"_

Matilda sat up in bed, her eyes wide with the revelation. It might have been mere coincidence---or _was _it? The question in her mind  
hadn't been whether she'd wanted to marry Ludwig, but whether she _could _take that "leap of faith", as Hortense had advised. In  
spite of her sister's encouragement, Matilda still had her doubts about making such a fateful decision.

But perhaps the answer had come to her at last.

She gazed up with misty eyes at Fergus and Downy's picture. They _had _helped her…they had never really left her. Of that, she was  
certain.

"Thank you," she whispered, kissing the picture and settling into bed. Tomorrow, she would go talk to Ludwig and explain her feelings  
better. If they were really meant for each other---and surely they were---they would get through the crisis somehow.

* * *

It was early next morning that Ludwig sat on his bed, fully dressed and with his suitcase half-packed. He had slept but little himself;  
his own mind had been burdened with doubt, and his heart heavy with despair.

Had he made a mistake? Had he been a complete fool to get involved with this woman who lived so far from him, and who still could not  
let go of the past? Was it possible that he given his heart, only to have it stepped on? Perhaps; and he should have known better.

After years of devoting his life to intellectual and artistic matters, falling in love had been quite a new thing for Ludwig. But it had been  
a thing so wonderful that for once his academic interests weren't the only driving force in his life. Yet even before there had been times  
when his flat seemed rather cold and empty, with only his music to break the silence. Had he allowed his emotions to prevail over his  
common sense? Maybe, the professor thought dismally, it was his destiny to remain a bachelor after all…

He was scheduled to return to Austria the next day; but discouraged about his future with Matilda, Ludwig had seriously planned to  
leave a day earlier. He wasn't sure whether to say a formal goodbye to everyone, or to leave a note and quietly slink away. The latter  
seemed rather sneaky and even unfriendly--two things that went very much against his nature. He sighed heavily, not knowing what  
to do. Sometimes he actually got _tired _of thinking.

Perhaps a little coffee would settle his mind. Traipsing quietly downstairs, Ludwig went into the kitchen and brewed a small pot. Hortense  
never made it as strong as he liked it back home, so he welcomed the chance to make it himself. As he sat at the kitchen table and sipped  
his coffee, enjoying the solitude, Ludwig began to feel a little better.

"I _thought _I smelled coffee," said a half-sleepy voice. The professor glanced up to see Quackmore waddle into the kitchen, still in his  
nightshirt and robe. He filled his cup and sat down at the table. So much for Ludwig's solitude.

"I hope da coffee iss not too strong for you," he said with a polite smile.

"I like it that way...the wife always makes it too weak. Besides," Quackmore continued with satisfaction, "it's nice to be up early and  
have some time to yourself."

The professor nodded silently. This was one of relatively few times he wasn't anxious to talk, and he hoped this wasn't the start of  
a conversation. But his future brother-in-law noticed both Ludwig's suit and his morose mood, and the inevitable happened.

"You're dressed kinda early, Ludwig. Were you going somewhere?"

Ludwig sighed; there was no point in dodging the question.

"I was t'inking of goin' home ta-day…I gotta leave ta-morrow ennyways. I would haf left ya a note," he explained quickly, "but I didn't  
know what ta do. I do not wish ta be unkind. You haf all been nice ta me, an' I am thanking you."

"It's because of what happened last night, isn't it?" Quackmore replied with an understanding smile. "Hortense told me about it, after  
she got back from her sister's."

"_Ach du lieber_! Why did she go an' do _dat _for?" groaned the professor. "She tried ta make ya talk ta me las' night, den she makes me  
talk ta _her_--an' den she goes out an' iss talkin' ta Matilda. She must be drivin' ya crazy, Quackmore!"

Quackmore chuckled. "Ludwig, you've got a lot to learn about women."

"I already know dey _talk _too much."

"Well, you'd better get used to it, if you're really serious about the lady."

Ludwig frowned. "I don't t'ink Matilda really wants ta marry me," he said slowly. "She t'inks I want ta take her from her fam'ly."

"She's just afraid, Ludwig."

"Of _me_?" Ludwig asked anxiously, having only the kindest intentions toward his lady friend.

"No…she's afraid of moving on," Quackmore explained. "First she and Hortense lose their parents, and then they have that  
falling-out with Scrooge---so she's afraid of losing what family she's got left. Besides, just getting married is a big step for anyone  
to take, let alone going to a whole other country to do it. Wouldn't _you _be a little nervous about it?"

"_Ja_," the professor admitted. "But maybe…I am makin' a mistake?"

Quackmore said firmly, "That's for _you _to decide. But I think the mistake would be to give up on Matilda like that. She's going through  
a pretty rough time right now, and you've got to be patient with her, Ludwig. That's part of what love is, you know."

This sounded quite odd coming from a person who constantly battled with his own mate, and Ludwig suggested as such. "I hear ya  
people fightin' an' arguin' all da time," he insisted.

Quackmore laughed, having heard that statement many times. "Yeah, Ma and Pa wonder how we get along, too. We were even  
fighting when we first _met_!"

Ludwig smiled a little as he imagined their stormy meeting---Hortense and Matilda were polar opposites indeed.

"They say opposites attract," Quackmore went on, "but that's not always true. Hortense was a mighty spirited gal, all right; and I  
reckon that scared a lot of guys out there. Not _me_, though--I fell for that pretty little spitfire right off. And we really love each other,  
Ludwig. We fight a lot, I know;but that's just our nature--it doesn't mean we're not happy. There are couples who never fight, but  
they never _talk _either. That's a thing sadder than any argument."

Ludwig had to admire the simple wisdom of that statement; and he thought _he _was the smart one.

"Den I should wait for Matilda?" he asked . "I should gif her anudder chance?"

"It wouldn't be a bad idea, Ludwig."

"Den I will do dat," the professor said, rising from the table. "Maybe I can stop by Matilda's place an' talk ta her. An' t'ank you,  
Quackmore," Ludwig continued, smiling as he shook the friendly drake's hand. "You are a good man."

But Ludwig had hardly walked out of the house when a car pulled up and Matilda quickly stepped out of it. For some seconds, the  
couple stared at each other, their faces both surprised and concerned.

"Ludwig…?" Matilda said softly, anxiously studying her gentleman friend and noting how he was dressed.

"Matilda," the professor stammered. "I was goin' ta …"

"You were going to leave today, weren't you?" she asked in dismay.

"Well…I…" His eyes went to the ground, since he wasn't sure exactly _what _he was planning to do that moment; but his lady friend  
threw her arms around him and burst into tears.

"Don't go, Ludwig!" she cried, kissing him and hugging him for dear life. "I'm so sorry, darling! I was such a fool---"

"No,_ Liebling_," Ludwig said gently. "_I _am sorry…I am understandin' better now. Quackmore an' Hortense, dey haf talked ta me…"

"And Hortense talked to _me _last night," explained Matilda. "She helped me to understand. Momma and Poppa helped me, too…"

Ludwig blinked curiously at her last statement, but she went on: "I'm a big girl, and it's time I had a life of my own--and I want to  
share that life with _you_, Ludwig. I love you so much, darling, and I don't want to lose you. I want to be your wife, even if we have  
to live in the South Pole!"

"We don't gotta live _dere_," Ludwig assured her; but his heart was singing as he understood what she meant. She _did _want him,  
she wanted to spend her life with him. And being with him, no matter where, really was all that mattered. Relieved and thrilled,  
he hugged his fiancée and kissed her tear-stained cheeks over and over.

"I am so happy, Matilda…_so _happy!" he exclaimed. "I promise, I will be da best husband in da whole world ta you!"

By this time, Hortense and the twins were up and noticed Quackmore looking out the front window, still drinking his coffee.

"What's going on?" the red-haired housewife asked with a yawn. Grinning, her husband nodded toward the window. Hortense  
looked out, and smiled triumphantly. Donald and Della joined their parents at the window, then suddenly Donald made a face.

"Ewwwww---they're _kissing_!!"

* * *

Ludwig and Matilda were wed at St. Stephan's Cathedral in Vienna, with Hortense as maid of honor and Della a flower-girl---and  
Donald a reluctant (but surprisingly well-behaved) ring-bearer. Quackmore, however, had the unusual honor of _both _being best  
man and giving the bride away.

Several of Ludwig's friends and colleagues from the University attended the wedding, including Dr. Vogel and even some of the  
students. Greta from the Hotel Sacher was there as well, weeping for joy that Ludwig---much like a son to her---would be lonely  
no longer. The Sacher had even furnished a gorgeous wedding cake in honor of their eccentric but faithful customer.

But there was one person missing from the wedding. He was someone who should have been there, yet had not been invited...but  
only because he would surely have refused. Perhaps he was traveling again, closing some outrageous business deal; or he was just  
sitting up in his money bin, gloating over all his financial conquests and planning others. Whatever Scrooge was doing, most likely he  
was wrapped up in his own greed--and blissfully unaware that he was missing out on his own sister's moment of happiness.

Such a thought was likely on everyone's mind that afternoon, but it was not allowed to spoil the event. This day was not about  
Scrooge, but Matilda and Ludwig...a time to dwell on the future rather than the past.

"Poor Ludwig…he's so nervous," observed one of the guests, watching as the professor stood by the altar in his tux, tugging at his  
collar. He was actually trembling, and he was afraid his knees would buckle under him before the wedding began. Then as the music  
started, he stiffened and cast an anxious glance behind him…but angst became rapture as he saw Matilda come slowly down the aisle,  
looking so much like an angel in her flowing white gown.

She took Ludwig's hand, her eyes shining with love and devotion; and he was awestruck that he was actually going to share his life  
with this lovely creature. As they knelt side by side at the altar, Ludwig barely heard the priest's words, but somehow managed to  
recite his vows…all the time feeling that he was in a beautiful dream, and praying that he would never wake up.

* * *

"You will enjoy Switzerland," Professor Schnabel told the couple at the reception later. He had suggested that Ludwig and Matilda  
go to Merganser-Gasthaus, a cozy little inn located in the Grison canton, just across the Austrian border. "Frau Schnabel and I went  
there for our own honeymoon," he explained.

And so, after a fond and emotional goodbye to Hortense and her family, the happy couple headed eagerly for Switzerland.

But weather can be quite unpredictable, especially at the least convenient times; and what started as a bright and sunny day turned  
into a heavy rain by the time Ludwig and Matilda had reached Merganser-Gasthaus. When they did, Ludwig was sure he'd gone to  
the wrong address--the inn looked small and dark, not at all like what he had pictured from Professor Schnabel's description. He  
supposed it was merely the rain and the dismal night sky that made it look different; besides, cold and tired as he and Matilda were,  
they were more concerned about shelter than romance for the time being.

When they went inside, Frau Merganser, a kindly woman in her late fifties, greeted them warmly.

"Josef will take you to your room, and I hope you will enjoy your stay."

But Ludwig began to feel the inside of the inn wasn't much better than the outside. The room to which Josef brought the couple was  
fairly cozy and not especially unattractive; yet it was hardly the nuptial suite they had expected. Since the rain and the lateness of  
the hour made it impossible to find a room elsewhere, it was at least a place to stay for the night.

This was little consolation to the newlyweds as they trudged wearily over to the bed and sat down. Neither spoke for the moment,  
and Matilda just stared down at a hooked rug on the floor. The professor gazed numbly around the room, trying to find something  
positive to say about their rather plain lodgings.

"At least da bed iss nice an' soft," he declared with a weak grin. The words were hardly out of his beak when Matilda gave him a  
dejected glance---and Ludwig could have kicked his own tail-feathers for what he _thought _he'd implied.

"Ah no, sweetie! I didn't mean it _dat _way!" he cried, taking his bride's hand and gallantly kissing it---horrified at what a selfish cad  
she must think he was. "I…I t'ink I'm kinda tired ennyways…"

The remark was so heartfelt and innocent that Matilda had to smile a little. "Oh, Ludwig," she gently told her worried husband,  
"_that's_ not it. It's just been such a crazy night, and I'm tired, too…"

"It will be all right, _Liebchen_," Ludwig promised. "We will rest here tonight, yes? T'morrow it will be a new day, an' we will go to annuder hotel…an' it'll be like dis night never happened. Den we will go to our new home," he finished, though he wondered unhappily if she'd  
still want to live with him after _this _fiasco.

But Matilda nodded, looking a bit more hopeful. "I'll be all right, Ludwig. We'll just rest here, till tomorrow…"

"All right, den. I'll go an' try ta get us a bite t'eat…somet'in ta drink, maybe."

He slipped out into the hall and looked around until he found Josef, who quickly came over.

"Is everything all right, _mein Herr_?" Josef asked, seeing the unhappy look on the professor's face.

"I…I t'ink so," Ludwig said hesitantly. "But I would like ta get us somet'in' ta eat. Are dey still servin' supper?"

"I am afraid not, _mein Herr_."

Ludwig sighed; this evening was getting worse all the time. "Den, can we haf just some bread an' butter, maybe? An' some cool  
water? It does not haf ta be much---mine wife an' I are too tired ta care right now. Dis was supposed ta be our weddin' night, ya  
see," he explained, "but da rain an' everyt'ing---it iss not goin' so good."

The young man smiled sympathetically. "I will see what I can do, _mein Herr_."

As the professor went back to the room, he heard Josef talking to Frau Merganser up the hall, and hoped he hadn't caused them  
too much trouble. Matilda was resting when he returned, and so Ludwig quietly sat next to her to wait for Josef to come back.

He was feeling very much annoyed at Professor Schnabel for suggesting this particular place. His associate was known for a wry  
sense of humor, and Ludwig felt himself at the end of a very unfunny joke. While he was hardly the vindictive type, he decided  
he'd find _some _little way to fix Schnabel. He could forgive a prank played on himself, but not if the woman he loved bore the brunt  
of it, too.

The professor was starting to get sleepy when a loud knock at the door jolted them both awake.

To their surprise, Frau Merganser stood at the door with Josef, who was holding a large basket.

"Take your bags and come with me," the woman requested.

Puzzled, and concerned as well, the newlyweds followed her up a short flight of stairs and down a hallway until they came to  
another room.

"You two will stay in _here_," Frau Merganser declared as she unlocked the door. As the two stepped inside, Matilda gasped with  
surprise and delight---this room was _quite _different from the other one. Ivory lace curtains hung from the window, and delicately-  
flowered paper covered the walls. Lace-trimmed sheets, snowy white and fragrant with lavender, adorned a large soft bed with  
a pretty hand-stitched quilt, and on a small table sat a vase filled with fresh flowers.

"_Ach_, how pretty!" Ludwig exclaimed. He turned wonderingly to Frau Merganser, who beamed pleasantly.

"_This _is the bridal suite, _mein Herr_," she explained. "If I had known you two were just married, I would have given you this room  
in the first place. And this," she continued, taking the basket from Josef and setting it on the table, "is a little meal we put together  
for you. You don't want bread and water on your honeymoon!"

Ludwig smiled humbly, but Matilda was deeply touched by the woman's simple goodness, and could not help hugging her. "Thank  
you, Frau Merganser," she said in her best German. "And bless you for being so kind to us!"

"You are most welcome, my dears," their hostess replied warmly. "And blessings on your marriage."

After she left, Ludwig and Matilda gaped around the room, still astonished at their sudden good fortune; then they quickly turned  
their attention to the basket Frau Merganser left them.

"Look what dey gave us!" the professor exclaimed happily as he looked in the basket. There was a fine cheese with several slices of  
cold ham, fresh radishes and crispy rolls with butter, a wooden pot of tiny strawberries with cream, chocolates and little cakes. There  
was also a flask of cold water and even a small bottle of white wine. It was a meal fit for royalty, and the weary couple gratefully  
devoured it.

The rain continued to pour outside, but it did not matter now. All was cozy and cheerful inside the bridal suite, and Ludwig quickly  
repented any vengeful thoughts about Professor Schnabel (who had been right about the inn after all). He was pleased as well to  
see Matilda looking much happier. They would long remember this lovely room and their delightful little supper, but more so the  
kindness which had supplied it all.

Later, Matilda took her trousseau bag and went off to freshen up, while Ludwig sorted through his own suitcase. Among their many  
wedding gifts, there had been two packages from Hortense and Quackmore.

"Don't open them till you get to your room, you two," Hortense had advised with a playful wink.

Now Ludwig opened his present, and was startled to find a white silk nightshirt. As fussy as he was about clothes, he never wore  
anything _that _fancy to bed. Well, yes, it _was _supposed to be his wedding night; but good heavens!!

"Dat Hortense…what a kooky mind she got," the professor muttered as he changed out of his suit and slipped on the nightshirt. It  
was soft and comfortable, and Ludwig decided he liked it. Perhaps Matilda would be wearing something just as nice, but he blushed  
at that thought; he had no particular expectations for this evening--in fact, he was actually nervous at the prospect, and wondered  
if his new bride felt the same way. What with the weather and the awkward situation they'd been through, he _was _feeling a little  
tired, and Matilda probably did as well. It was all right; they would have plenty of time to make up for that.

Seeing a radio sitting on the dresser, the professor switched it on and tuned it to a classical station. By this time the rain had stopped,  
and Ludwig opened the window for a bit of air. A cool breeze stirred through the garden, mingling with the scent of pine trees and  
damp earth, and the fragrance of early blossoms. The moon began to peak through the clouds, allowing a faint glimpse of the Alps far  
off in the distance. Ludwig gazed out dreamily, enjoying the crisp, fragrant air and thinking of the mountains in his own homeland, and  
he marveled at what a beautiful place the world could be.

"You'll catch cold, darling," Matilda said gently as she came back into the room. Realizing that he was standing in an open window in his nightshirt, Ludwig gulped and closed the shutters, then quickly slipped on his dressing gown.

"It has stopped rainin' now, _Liebling_," he declared with a smile. "You should see how nice..."

But his words trailed off when he turned to find his wife standing before him in a flowing white lace nightgown.

"Do you like it?" she asked modestly. "Hortense bought it for the honeymoon."

Did he _like _it? Certainly he did, but he was too spellbound to actually get those words out.

"You are like an angel," Ludwig said softly. "So pretty…"

He gazed at his bride almost reverently, hardly daring to touch her; but when she took his hand, he blushed and laughed nervously.

_Poor darling…he's like a shy little boy,_ Matilda thought, gazing tenderly at her husband. She was rather nervous herself, but she loved  
Ludwig deeply and was anxious to start her married life with him. Ever since girlhood she had dreamt of this moment; for so many  
years of her complicated, interrupted life she had hoped and longed for fulfillment--until she had feared that it would never happen.

Yet here they were now, husband and wife at last…and only one thing remained to complete their sacred union. But there was no need  
to rush things---not when they would have the rest of their lives together.

They stood holding hands, not knowing what to say and feeling rather self-conscious; then a soft waltz began to play over the radio,  
and Ludwig smiled as a little idea came to him.

"Remember when I taught ya to waltz, _Liebchen_?" he asked.

"Oh yes," she replied, laughing. "That night at Hotel Schwanflügel. I can still remember how lovely it all was…"

"Would ya like ta dance now?" Ludwig suggested playfully.

"What, in our nightclothes?"

"Who's gonna look?"

They began to waltz around the room, giggling like children, relieved to have broken the ice at last. But as the music slowed, so did  
their dance; then at length they were simply holding each other, with Matilda's head resting on Ludwig's chest and his bill touching  
her golden curls. The waltz had now finished, but it didn't matter to either of them.

"You smell nice," Ludwig said slowly.

"It's _Devon Violets_," she replied. "You've always liked that cologne…"

She stood with her arms around him, listening to his gentle heartbeat. He held her close, nuzzling her fragrant hair and feeling a warm,  
loving glow drive away what was left of his anxiety.

Then Ludwig raised his head as he heard a choral number familiar to them both.

"Listen," he whispered. "Do you hear what dey are singin', Matilda?"

It was _The Bridal Chorus_ from _Lohengrin_, an opera they had gone to during Matilda's stay in Vienna. They listened closely as the chorus  
sang in German:

_Faithfully guided, draw near  
to where the blessing of love shall preserve you!  
Triumphant courage, the reward of love,  
joins you in faith as the happiest of couples!_

"It's as if they're singing for _us_," Matilda said softly.

Her deep blue eyes gazed lovingly into his, and the couple drew close into a long and tender kiss. There was no turning back now; this  
was their moment, a new chapter in their lives that waited to be written.

But as they joined hands and walked toward the bed, Matilda stopped and turned to her husband.

"Oh, wait," she asked teasingly. "Didn't you tell me you were tired?"

Ludwig looked startled, then laughed as he remembered.

"Not no more," he declared.

He slipped off his spectacles and laid them on the nightstand. After all, there were some things that _didn't_ require glasses…

* * *

It was two weeks later, that Ludwig stood in front of his mirror, singing to himself as he dressed for work. As he went downstairs, he  
smelled the coffee and rolls Matilda was making for breakfast, and he was blissfully happy to be starting another day as a newly married  
drake.

"Good morning, _mein Liebe!_" he announced as he sailed into the kitchen and threw his arms around Matilda's waist. She squealed with  
surprise and nearly dropped the coffee pot, but laughed heartily while Ludwig planted generous kisses  
on her face and neck.

"Why, Ludwig!" she cried, once she caught her breath. "If only those stuffy University teachers could see you now!"

"Dey would be _jealous_!" he replied with delight. "B'cause I am married to da prettiest lady in da whole world!"

Jealous or not, his colleagues most certainly would have been astonished at his amorous behavior. Ludwig might have understood  
their surprise, perhaps even shared it---that is, if it had been anyone _else_. For he, Professor Ludwig von Drake, a man of science and  
a man of culture, was now a man passionately in love with his new bride.

What had facts and figures mattered to him these past two weeks? Theories and theses, paradigms and polygons---they had all  
surrendered deliriously to two heavenly blue eyes, a pair of soft white arms and a head of flaxen hair that smelled like flowers. If  
nobody was jealous of that, then surely they were crazy.

Yet Ludwig's musical love and knowledge _hadn't _surrendered. How could it, when music had brought the two of them together---  
and even graced their wedding night? What had just happened in his life was more glorious than any opera he'd ever heard; even  
now, an _Alleluia Chorus _worthy of Handel still echoed in his heart...

When he returned to the University, both faculty and students observed a difference in his mood---not to mention his teaching methods.  
He was much more cheerful and somewhat more patient during his lessons; even the ever-erring Fritz Wolff noted the change in his long-suffering instructor.

"I missed several notes during violin practice," he told a classmate later on, "and Professor Von Drake didn't say a word---he just  
stood there smiling and humming to himself. What's Frau Von Drake done to him?"

"Whatever it is," replied the other student, "he should have married her a long time ago!"

As for Frau Von Drake, she happily discovered that both marriage and life in Vienna suited her quite well. Ludwig's earnings and her  
own had bought them a house just outside of the city; it was small but nice-looking, and the professor was slowly improving and  
expanding it. Mindful of his wife's love of flowers, he put up window boxes and even built a greenhouse, and Matilda eagerly filled  
them both.

"It's been everything I hoped for," she wrote in her first letter to Hortense. "And to think I had such doubts! I can't thank you  
enough, Hortense, for encouraging me so much. If only Momma and Poppa could have lived to see how happy you and I both are  
now!

"I'm looking forward to your visit, Hortense dear. You'll love the countryside here; it'll remind you of Scotland. The flowers and fruit  
trees are blooming now, too. The mountains are just beautiful with bits of snow on them, and the air is so fresh and clean. I feel as  
if I'm in paradise..."

And paradise it must have been---at least for awhile.

Yet it seems that every paradise has its own serpent...and that serpent was already spreading his poison through a nation just up  
north. in only a few years' time, he would sink his fangs into the very heart of Ludwig's beloved homeland. For the land of Mozart,  
this land of culture and beauty, was also the birthplace of Adolf Hitler.

--

_**End Chapter VII  
**_

* * *

Not much to comment on here, except for the following:

1. You may have noticed that I've softened Ludwig's accent a little in this chapter (and I'll eventually do that in the previous ones).  
I figured it was just a bit too stereotyped, but at the same time I wanted to keep him in character---and Ludwig von Drake without  
an accent just_ isn't_ in character.

2. This is the first time I've _ever _written a wedding night scene---well, bits of one anyway. I'm a firm believer in "keeping the door  
closed" on boudoir scenes; to my mind, it's much more romantic that way. If you _still _felt the need for a cold shower (or a cigarette)  
at the end of this chapter, it's your own fault. XD

3. As you can tell from the ending, things are going to get pretty harrowing in the next chapter (which is slowly in progress). It may  
also stir up some controversy, but hopefully not. Life is full of risks, and so is literature.

4. If you want to do fan art on this, you're quite welcome _**if**_ you ask _**and**_ give credit. Should you do the honeymoon scene, however, _  
please _keep it G-rated...I blush easily.


	8. The Approaching Storm

**Ludwig and Matilda:  
A Love Story**

A _Ducktales _Fanfic

(Inspired in part by Don Rosa's _The Life and Times of Scrooge McDuck_)

Disclaimer: Ludwig von Drake, etc. are (c) Disney. _The Life and Times of Scrooge McDuck _is (c) by Don Rosa and Gladstone Publications. The cartoon _Education For Death _is (c) 1943 by Walt Disney Productions. This story is (c) by me. Please don't copy, link, or use it in any wise without my permission.

* * *

_**A/N (please read): **_This latest chapter of _Ludwig and Matilda _deals with a sensitive historical topic which is still argued about today. In no way is it meant to hurt or offend anyone of German or Austrian descent, and I certainly hope it won't. That being said, it would be just as wrong to try to sanitize history, especially where crimes against humanity are involved. However---and as parts of this chapter will point out---there were Germans, Austrians and other Europeans during WWII who did _not _support Adolf Hitler or his actions, and in fact many denounce him today. Some even gave their lives defying him, as you know if you've seen the 2008 film _Valkyrie_.

The classroom scene coming up was adapted from Disney's 1943 cartoon _Education For Death_. Some of Rolf's words are direct quotes from the film. Considered "banned" today because of its propaganda quality, this cartoon is featured in the Walt Disney Treasures DVD set _Disney On The Front Lines_, and can (so far) also be seen over at YouTube.

One last thing: _"_The Loon Ranger" is _not _a typo.

* * *

_**Chapter VIII:  
The Approaching Storm**_

_Once I had a lovely fatherland.  
The oak__  
Grew there so high, the violets gently swayed.  
It was a dream._

---Heinrich Heine, German poet

* * *

"Happy Anniversary!" exclaimed everyone as champagne glasses clinked around the table.

It was early spring of 1933, exactly one year since Ludwig and Matilda were married, and they were celebrating with a dinner party at their home. Hortense and her family had come to stay with them just in time for the couple's anniversary; Dr. Vogel and his wife joined the Von Drakes for dinner as well.

"I can't believe it's been a year for you two already," said Hortense over coffee and dessert. "It doesn't seem that long ago when we were here for your wedding!"

"And we're looking forward to even _more _years," Matilda replied, smiling warmly at Ludwig, who chuckled and kissed his wife's hand.

"Can we have some more chocolate cake, Uncle Ludwig?" begged Donald and Della, who had long since learned that Ludwig was inclined to pamper his nephew and niece.

"Those two are bottomless pits when it comes to dessert," Quackmore declared with a grin.

"Dat is all right!" Ludwig said, smiling as he cut two more slices from the rich _Sachertorte _and gave them to the eagerly awaiting twins. Never one to pass up sweets, he allowed himself a second slice as well---and even some of his guests decided on another helping.

"You spoil the twins so much, Ludwig," Hortense remarked, though she was laughing.

"I am not minding," the professor insisted. "I am always glad to see da kiddies."

"And we're still hoping for some of our own," Matilda added wistfully.

"Give it time," Hortense advised her gently. "It's just the two of you right now, with nobody having to get up during the night to change a diaper or get the kid a drink of water. You'd better enjoy that while you still can!" Everyone laughed at that, even the children.

"Frau Von Drake, thank you for this wonderful meal," said Dr. Vogel's wife. "The _Schnitzel _and _Sachertorte _were scrumptious!"

"Thank you," replied Matilda, blushing a little.

"Matrimony _has _suited you nicely, Herr Professor," Dr. Vogel declared to Ludwig. "You proved yourself a genius when you married both a pretty lady and a fine cook."

"I can not argue wit' dat!" Ludwig said happily.

After dinner everyone went to the parlor, where Donald spotted the Von Drakes' console radio and quickly rushed over to turn it on.

"Donald, ask your aunt and uncle first," warned Hortense.

"But I wanna listen to _The Loon Ranger_," said the duckling.

Matilda laughed. "I don't think we have that program over here, Donald."

"Aw, gee!" pouted her nephew.

"But we can lissen to da radio anyways," Ludwig said cheerfully. "Why don't ya turn ta some nice class'cal musics, Donald?"

"Yuk! Okay," Donald sighed. But as he searched for a music station, he happened across a news program being broadcast from Berlin, Germany. He listened open-mouthed as a man's voice screamed angrily in German to a cheering crowd, and each time the man bellowed something the crowd cheered even louder.

"Why is that guy yelling?" asked Donald, but before anyone could answer Ludwig rushed up and immediately changed the station. The duckling looked up to ask why, but was surprised to see his normally cheerful uncle looking somewhat disturbed.

"Whatsa matter, Uncle Ludwig?"

"_Ach_, it iss not'ing. I just do not like ta hear peoples yellin'," Ludwig explained with a stiff smile as he sat back down.

"But who was that?" insisted Donald, whose curiosity would not go unsatisfied.

"It sounded like Hitler," Hortense suggested, remembering the voice from newsreels.

"Dat _iss _him," the professor said darkly. "An' he iss now Chanc'llor of Germany."

Donald wanted to know what a 'chanc'llor' was, and why _that _particular one was yelling, but Ludwig seemed uncomfortable with the subject and waved away the question. Dr. Vogel chuckled mildly as he lit a pipe.

"Politics are one of very _few _subjects Professor Von Drake doesn't care to talk about," the director explained. "He seems to feel they have no intellectual value."

"The same could be said for most politicians," Quackmore put in with a laugh.

"What you both are sayin' iss true," Ludwig declared, as he listened with relief to a Mozart piece playing over the airwaves.

Sensing that her husband was anxious to change the subject, Matilda asked Hortense and Quackmore how things were going back in  
America. Her sister and brother-in-law took the hint and talked about the family and life back in the States. In spite of the recent Depression, things were slowly improving and Quackmore had enough steady work to keep bread on the table. Moreover, he had long been interested in  
the Navy and was thinking seriously of enlisting.

"You won't have much to do out at sea, with no actual war going on," Dr. Vogel declared.

"I could live with that," Quackmore reasoned. "But people keep saying that if there is another war we'd better stay out. We're still getting over the _last _war."

"So is much of Europe, Mr. Duck," the director admitted. "And sadly, some people more than others have been especially bitter about the outcome."

"Oh, you men! Must you always talk about such things?" Frau Vogel scolded mildly.

"Perhaps they should be on everyone's mind these days," Dr. Vogel said pleasantly.

"I am glad not ta haf dem on _my _mind. Dere are better t'ings to think about," Ludwig insisted, smiling up at Matilda as she slipped her arm around his shoulders.

"I don't blame you, Herr Professor," Frau Vogel said heartily. "Just enjoy your lives, you two!"

Later after the Vogels had gone home, the Von Drakes and their guests began settling down for the night. Suddenly there were sounds of stamping, yelling and cursing from the direction of the guest room, and Donald and Della came knocking at the door of Ludwig and Matilda's bedroom.

"Aunt Matilda, Uncle Ludwig!" they sang out, "Mom and Pop are fighting again!"

"Surprise, surprise," Matilda sighed as she huddled under her covers, and Ludwig popped his head out the door.

"Tell 'em ta go ahead an' kill each udder!" he exclaimed, and the twins squealed and ran off.

"Ludwig, that's terrible!" Matilda laughingly scolded her husband.

"Well, da house would be quiet den, wouldn't it?" Ludwig reasoned with a grin. "Exceptin' for da kiddies."

To his relief and Matilda's, the Ducks soon settled down and the house was in fact quiet. _"Danken Sie Gott," _the professor murmured as he arranged his pillows and snuggled down. He was just about to drift off to sleep when his wife turned to him with a sudden look of concern.

"Ludwig?"

"Hmm?"

"Do you think you and I could ever quarrel like that?"

Ludwig blinked. "We haf done dat sometimes…a liddle bit, anyways. But dat is usual in a marry-age, no?"

"I guess so…but Hortense and Quackmore have honest-to-goodness _fights_, and you should see them when they're _really _angry at each other," Matilda insisted.

The professor laughed, remembering his stay with the Ducks back in the States. "I t'ink I _haf _seen dem. An' Quackmore said dat's just how dey are anyways."

"But that's _their _nature, not ours. I hope you and I could never act that way---with yelling and harsh, hateful words to one another."

But Ludwig couldn't even imagine that happening. "We don't haf ta worry about dat, _Schätzen_," he said tenderly, taking Matilda's hand and kissing it. "You are da best t'ing dat has ever happened ta me."

"Same here," Matilda whispered as she snuggled close to him, and they fell asleep feeling that much was still right with the world. And so far, it was…at least in their own world.

For all his quirks, Ludwig had proved to be a loving and devoted husband. Despite their differences in nationality, culture and character, he and Matilda were well matched in more than their love of music. Anxious to please her spouse and adjust to her new homeland as well, Matilda taught herself about Viennese cooking and culture, and learned more than enough German to get by in the city. But she did not have to work hard to make Ludwig happy---she had already done so by sharing her life with him.

It hadn't been a "perfect" marriage, of course. They were too sensible and mature to expect such as that. There were disagreements and the normal marital spats, and even occasional nights when Ludwig found himself exiled to the couch. But Matilda's temperament was milder than her sister's and she was quick to forgive, so all would be well by morning.

They had pledged their lives for better or for worse, and were confident that their love could weather any storm. It was well that they thought so, for indeed a storm _was _coming---only the first of many that would test their faith and devotion to one another.

* * *

The next day Matilda and Hortense went out shopping with Della, while Donald and the men preferred to stay home. It was Saturday, and now that the professor was a married drake he could comfortably settle into home life, without fretting about no classes to run that day.

He still liked to spend time in his basement laboratory, working on various little inventions or some type of experiment. Donald hadn't forgotten the Bunsen burner fiasco and now watched his uncle's research from a safe distance---though years later, he would come to feel that the _safest _distance was far away from the professor.

Ludwig's latest project appeared harmless enough, though. He had taken several pots of variously-colored roses from the greenhouse and set them up on his work table, and Donald watched curiously as the professor poked around in the roses with some wooden sticks. Ludwig explained that he was cross-pollinating them, hoping to make a special hybrid rose.

"A liddle surprise for Matilda," he said with a smile.

"She's still crazy about flowers, eh?" Quackmore asked.

"She sure iss!" the professor answered proudly. "She iss always in da greenhouse or da garden."

He then noticed with some surprise that Quackmore was looking over the latest issue of the _Neue Freie Presse _(New Free Press).

"Can ya read any of dat?" Ludwig asked his brother-in-law.

"Bits of it," admitted Quackmore. "Since we've come over here now and then, it made sense to learn a little German. And once I join the Navy, it'll be a good idea to know some foreign languages."

"So ya really are goin' ta join da Navy, Quackmore?"

"I've been thinking about it. Hortense isn't too happy with the idea, though."

"Iss dat why you two was fightin' last night?" the professor suggested with a sympathetic smile.

"Part of it. Otherwise, it was the usual thing," Quackmore replied, rolling his eyes.

Just then, Donald noticed a large photo on the back of the newspaper, depicting a scruffy-looking wolf wearing a military uniform and a little mustache. The figure stood with his arm raised stiffly and appeared to be yelling.

"Who's that, Pop?" Donald asked, pointing to the photo.

"Oh, that's Hitler," Quackmore replied with a stiff smile. "That guy who was hollering on the radio last night."

"He's got a funny-looking mustache," Donald said with a smirk.

"Yeah, but I wouldn't say it to his face."

Ludwig shook his head. "_Again _wit' da Hitler?" he said in disgust.

"You really don't like him, do you?" Quackmore suggested, laughing.

"I do _not_."

Quackmore then grew serious as he recalled last night's conversation with Dr. Vogel. "You know, he did have a point, Ludwig. Politics _should _be on everyone's mind these days---including _yours_."

"But why? What do da politics haf ta do wit' me?" asked Ludwig, stopping his work. "I do _not_ t'ink they haf any int'llectual value---Dr. Vogel had a point about _dat_, too."

"Well, you professors keep up with world events, don't you?" insisted Quackmore. "Don't you know what's going on up in Germany, what's been happening to people up there?"

"_Ja_…I do know dat," Ludwig admitted sadly. "An' off course Matilda an' I hate it. But what do ya want me ta do about it, Quackmore? Go over dere an' say to dat Hitler guy, 'Hey, ya gotta stop all dat'? As if _he _would lissen to me!"

"What I think you should do---what _everyone _should do here---is try to make sure none of that rubs off on your own country, Ludwig. A lot of this is happening because of all the anger and hate that people felt after the Great War. Austria came out of that war pretty badly too; and you know, Hitler was born here. What's to stop him from spreading his hate in this country, too?"

"I am hopin' an' prayin' it will not happen. But Austria iss _not _Germ'ny," Ludwig insisted firmly.

To the professor's constant irritation, people often had the two countries confused. Yet even though German was its language and there was a slight similarity in its culture, Austria was still a separate nation and people.

It was true as well that Austria had taken part in World War I---though its last reigning emperor, the good Charles I, was outraged at Kaiser Wilhelm for his atrocities. But Charles died in 1922 and Austria was now a republic; yet in spite of certain civil and political tensions, it had managed to stay somewhat above the anarchy infecting its neighbor.

But as Ludwig would heartbreakingly discover, his beloved country was living on borrowed time.

* * *

The change came gradually at first. By 1934, news of Germany and the ever-growing National Socialist Party was appearing often in newspapers, magazines, newsreels and on the radio. The man with the funny mustache, the angry voice that screamed, would be more and more the topic in cafés and other public places---even the University of Vienna itself. Whether he cared or not what Ludwig von Drake thought of him, Adolf Hitler did not intend to be ignored.

There were other changes as well. People began arriving to Austria from Germany---some with glowing praise of the National Socialist party, others with sad reports of persecution and violent acts of hatred. The former had come hoping to spread the dark gospel of the new movement; the latter only sought refuge from its cruelty.

One of the latter was a Jewish art teacher named Nathan Taubmann. Because of growing political and social unrest back in his native Berlin, he had come to Vienna with his wife and ten-year old son, Benjamin. It was his hope that the city so famous for art and music would offer him both shelter and a livelihood. Fortunately, Nathan's former employers had recommended him to the University and for the time being few there were concerned about his religious beliefs, so Dr. Vogel hired him with little trouble.

Ludwig met Nathan and liked him, both for his knowledge of art and his gentle personality. Noting that their latest instructor seemed just as lost and uneasy about his new country as Matilda had been, the professor took Nathan under his wing. He helped introduce him to the University and life in Vienna; he also invited the Taubmanns to his house for coffee and even took them to the Opera.

Ludwig's kindness meant a lot to his new colleague, who was anxious to be accepted in society and to make a better life for his family, and the two soon became friends. Matilda knew how it felt to adjust to a new country, and so she quickly became friendly with Nathan's wife Sarah. With still no children forthcoming in the Von Drake household, Benjamin's presence was especially welcome. He was very bright for his age and loved the museums and concert halls in Vienna, and often visited the University where Nathan worked.

Seeing his own childhood in Benjamin, Ludwig quickly grew fond of him and encouraged him in his love of academics. He also gave him various tasks to do, such as helping to set up materials for music class, fetching art supplies, and putting away books, and he would reward Benjamin with a coin or some sweets. The boy took a special pleasure in helping out the professor; it was his hope to study at the University when he was older, perhaps even to teach there like his father.

But soon there was another new arrival to the University: Rolf Schweiner, a burly eighteen-year old from Munich. His father Augustus was a wealthy factory owner there, and had come to Vienna to expand his business. Deciding that his son should have the best education possible,  
Herr Schweiner insisted that Rolf enroll in the University.

It didn't take long for Ludwig to dislike the new student, who from the very beginning showed a poor attitude toward his lessons and the University itself. He took great delight in poking fun at some of the students and even his teachers, and unfortunately the professor was one of his favorite victims; on one occasion, Ludwig actually heard the boy mocking him. Worse, Rolf had brought over certain unpleasant ideas he had learned well in his former residence---ideas that he was far too eager to share.

One day, Ludwig happened to be teaching natural history. It was still his habit to help run the other classes at the University, though now as mainly a substitute for other teachers who were sick or on holiday.

The particular lesson that afternoon was about nature's laws of survival; to illustrate, Ludwig drew a little story on the blackboard about a fox hunting a rabbit. He also noticed that Rolf seemed unusually interested in what was happening. That _was _unusual, since the young man normally ignored the lessons---or made fun of the professor behind his back.

When the fox had caught and eaten the rabbit in the story, and Ludwig turned to the class and asked what they had learned from that scenario, Rolf's hand eagerly shot up. Against his better judgment, yet grateful his new student was paying attention for once, the professor declared:

"All right den, Herr Schweiner, what can ya tell us?"

The young man's answer was both spontaneous and astonishing.

"The rabbit is a coward and _deserves _to die. The future belongs to the strong---and to the _brutal!"_

Ludwig was stunned, and even some of the other students were wide-eyed at Rolf's answer. As for the professor, the response had nothing to do with nature that _he _knew of, yet there had been something ominously familiar about the boy's words.

Encouraged by the reaction of his classmates, Rolf prattled on about his rather harsh views of nature, until Ludwig decided he'd heard all he cared to. Frowning sternly, he ordered:

"Dat iss _enough_, Herr Schweiner. You will please sit down now."

He barely managed to hold back the horror and anger in his voice, but the look on his face said it all.

Bewildered and embarrassed, Rolf returned to his seat, and Ludwig continued the lesson as calmly as he could. He was quite relieved when the bell for dismissal rang, and after the students left he sat down at his desk with a heavy sigh. At first he had thought of calling Rolf back and demanding to know where he got such singular beliefs, but quickly thought better of it. He was too disturbed by the young man's words to even look him in the eye for the time being; and besides, he could very well guess where Rolf got his "education".

Recently, one of the other teachers had tried getting Ludwig to read _Mein Kampf_. He had not especially cared to, yet bought it anyway to shut his colleague up---though he had been somewhat curious as well. But after only looking at a few chapters, the professor tossed the book into the incinerator, declaring that the author was out of his mind.

Yet here in Ludwig's own classroom, and out of the very mouth of one of his students, had come such pitiless words as Adolf Hitler wrote nearly a decade before.

The professor prayed this would only be an isolated incident, and not the start of a trend. But when he told Matilda about it that evening, she was just as troubled over the student's words.

"What a dreadful thing for him to say!" she exclaimed. "I hope nothing like that happens again."

"I am hopin' da same thing, _Liebling_," her husband replied.

At the University the next day, Ludwig discussed the matter with Nathan; and while the art teacher was startled, he hardly seemed surprised. He had heard the same things from students in his former school.

"There were many like that boy," he told the professor, "and some of their parents didn't behave any better."

Ludwig admitted that he never had really liked Rolf. "He is not a nice boy," he said, "not like Benjamin. _He _is a good boy."

The professor appreciated Benjamin's manners and helpfulness all the more after that, and looked forward to having the boy as one of his own students someday. But a few days after the classroom incident, Ludwig noticed Benjamin acting somewhat nervous and even troubled.

"What'sa matter, Benny?" the professor asked kindly when the young man came up to hand him some music sheets.

"Oh…nothing, Herr Professor," Benjamin answered with an uneasy smile. It was then that Ludwig noticed a bruise around the boy's eye.

"Benny! Did ya get in a fight? Here, let me look at dat, I'll put somet'in' on it---" But when he reached out to touch the boy's face, Benjamin drew back.

"It…itt's nothing, Professor! I just ran into a door. It's all right…please don't tell Papa."

He seemed unusually anxious to leave the music room then, which both surprised and troubled the professor. But perhaps Benjamin _had _been fighting, he assumed, and the boy simply hadn't wanted his father to know of it. Truly this had been a strange week, and Ludwig would be glad when things got back to normal.

The next afternoon, however, he was leaving the University for the day, when he heard a commotion outside the building. There were sounds of someone being struck, a child's crying, and a big boy's taunts. Recognizing the older voice too well, Ludwig quickly followed the sounds and was shocked to discover Benjamin huddled up against a wall---with Rolf standing over the boy and viciously hitting him.

"What are _you _doing back here?" Rolf yelled at the child. "I told you to stay out of here, you filthy little Jew!" But before he could strike Benjamin again, he felt someone grab his arm and yank him back, and the young man turned in irritated surprise to find the professor glaring at him.

Ludwig was hardly a violent person; it was only righteous anger that made him do what he did next.

"You hateful young hoodlum!!" he blurted, shaking Rolf and giving him a sound slap in the face. The young man gasped and turned pale for a second, but his shocked expression quickly twisted into rage.

"You'll be sorry for that, Von Drake!!" he snarled in an ugly voice.

"I am _not _sorry!" retorted Ludwig, outraged at both Rolf's cruelty and the disrespectful use of his own surname. "How dare you ta hurt Benjamin like dat?"

"What do you care? He's a---"

"I do not care _what _he iss! An' don't say dat again!" the professor warned. For once, he wished he had a cane to use on Rolf's backside, after the custom of his own childhood schoolteachers. "I haf had it with you, Herr Schweiner," he continued hotly. "I will report dis to Dr. Vogel---an' I will personally see dat you are _expelled_!!"

"Do it, then!!" sneered Rolf. "I hate this place, and I hate _you_, Four-Eyes! You're just another 'thinker', and your kind aren't worth anything!"

As the youth furiously ran away, Ludwig stared after him in both astonishment and anger. But he quickly turned his attention to Benjamin, who was crying and trying to wipe the blood from his beak. The professor gently put an arm around him and wiped the boy's face with his own handkerchief.

"It will be all right, Benj'min," he said kindly. "You come home wit' me, an' I will call your father." Nathan was still busy in his art class, but Ludwig was anxious to get Benjamin away from the building.

"Do you have to, Herr Professor?" the boy asked, sniffling.

"He has ta know what happened, Benny. Somet'ing has ta be done about dat bad boy…"

As soon as Ludwig brought Benjamin to his home, Matilda cleaned the child up and gave him a glass of milk, while the professor phoned Nathan. He came over immediately and comforted his son; yet while the art teacher was disturbed, he was hardly surprised.

"Benny, why didn't you tell me that boy had been bothering you?" he asked quietly.

"I didn't want to worry you, Papa," Benjamin replied. "You got so upset that other time."

"This has happened before," Nathan explained to Ludwig and Matilda. "But not here…until now. We came over here to get away from that kind of thing. And now, it looks like it's starting all over again…"

"But it was only dat Rolf," Ludwig insisted. "He is a bad boy. I will see dat he's punished for what he did to Benny."

"Ludwig," Nathan asked him gravely, "do you honestly believe it was _only _'that Rolf'? That there are not others who believe as he does, and that this insanity will end with him?"

Ludwig hoped he was wrong; yet he was deeply disturbed at both the incident and the terrible words Rolf had said.

"What did dat boy mean about 'thinkers' ?" he asked Nathan later that evening . "What iss wrong wit' bein' a thinker? It _iss _thinkin' dat gets important stuff done in da world!"

"Not according to some, Ludwig. Remember what Rolf said about the rabbit? That's what he's been taught to think, and that's what many like him believe now: that it is brute force, _not _intelligence or reason, that will conquer the world."

"So," Ludwig answered with dismay, "_I_ am da 'rabbit'?"

"People like you and I both, I'm afraid," Nathan answered with a sad smile.

"But surely dat madness cannot happen here," Ludwig insisted. Yet as he remembered his recent conversation with Quackmore, the professor wondered if he wasn't clutching only a mere straw of hope.

_Was _it possible that there were others in his own country who believed as Rolf did, or worse? Were there not enough of his fellow Austrians who would reject such cruel ideas and stay loyal to the nobility and culture of their country's better days?

_

* * *

_

Ludwig quickly reported the beating to Dr. Vogel. The director had long since been aware of Rolf's behavior, and at first he considered suspending the new student. But with concern for Benjamin's future safety, Ludwig insisted that Rolf should be expelled.

"He will surely do da same t'ing ta someone else," the professor declared, "or worse. He iss a very cruel young man."

But once word of the affair reached the young man's father, Dr. Vogel was spared the trouble of taking further action. Augustus Schweiner was outraged---but at Ludwig and the director, rather than his son. To the professor's surprise and disgust, Herr Schweiner actually seemed to defend Rolf's attitude and actions. In addition, he removed Rolf from the University, angrily declaring that it was no fit place for his son.

There was at least the relief that Rolf would be no further trouble; but to Ludwig and Matilda's dismay, the Taubmanns decided it would be too risky to stay in Austria any longer. When theycame over to the Von Drakes for coffee some evenings later, Nathan told them that he and his family would soon be leaving for America.

"I have relatives living there," he explained, "and they'll see we can find work and a place to live."

It was hardly a week later that the Von Drakes stood at the train station with the Taubmanns,saying one last sad goodbye to their friends.

"It's not right that you have to go," Matilda said sorrowfully. "You've been such wonderful friends to us!"

"We'll always be friends, Matilda," Sarah assured her. "We'll write you and let you know where we are."

"Please do dat," Ludwig insisted. "An' especially let me know how Benny iss doing. I will miss seein' him at school. An' Nathan, I will miss you too. You are a good man and a good friend."

"Same here, Ludwig," Nathan said warmly, shaking the professor's hand as Sarah and Matilda hugged each other and cried.

"Be a good boy, Benny," Ludwig said as he shook a tearful Benjamin's hand. But he was astonished when the boy released his hand and  
hugged him firmly before turning away to board the train with his parents; and as the Von Drakes sadly watched them leave, it was quite  
some time before the lump in Ludwig's throat went away.

* * *

But parting with their friends was only the beginning of the Von Drakes' troubles. Less than a month later, a very grave-faced Dr. Vogel called Ludwig into his office.

"What iss da matter?" the professor asked, seeing the uncomfortable look on the director's face. But he could guess right away this would be no typical friendly meeting.

Ever since the incident with Rolf Schweiner, Ludwig had noticed a certain change in the University's atmosphere, and toward himself. Certain professors and other staff who had once been friendly now hardly spoke to him, and at times even avoided him. Certain of the students seemed to have changed toward Ludwig as well, and some of them asked to be transferred from his classes. Apparently word of the episode had gotten around elsewhere in Vienna, even at the Sacher coffee room; Greta was still her usual kindly self, but Ludwig and his wife would hear people whispering, and at times the professor actually caught a unfriendly glance from a neighboring table.

Sitting in Dr. Vogel's office, Ludwig wondered now if the director had changed toward him as well.

"Professor Von Drake," Dr. Vogel said slowly, "I'm not quite sure how to begin what I need to say. However, I think you have noticed that people around here have been behaving rather differently toward you…"

"Iss it because of what happened wit' Rolf?" Ludwig asked anxiously. "Why should dey see ennyt'ing wrong about dat? He did a terrible thing, an' he had ta be punished."

"There are some here," the director explained uncomfortably, "including some of my own superiors, who seem to feel that you should have left well enough alone."

The professor blinked. " 'Left well enough alone'? Den you are sayin' dat some people here are approvin' of what Rolf did, an' even think like him," he said darkly. "So, because _I_ do not feel dat way, because I defended poor little Benjamin, I am becomin' da enemy , yes?"

"I'm afraid it would appear so," Dr. Vogel said solemnly. "There's no point in hiding that from you, Herr Professor. As a matter of fact, they are requesting that I terminate your position here, or at least convince you to resign."

Ludwig was stunned. He could not believe the words he was hearing from Dr. Vogel, a man he considered friend as well as employer and who  
had in fact attended the professor's own wedding; but now, a man who seemed nothing more than a stranger. After years of faithful attendance and service, Ludwig was being asked---no, pressured to leave his beloved University, as if none of that had mattered---and all over the defense  
of one boy and the discipline of another.

But was it only because of his actions? Was it true, then, what Nathan and Quackmore had said? Had the same evil now raging in Germany  
finally entered his own country, even the University itself? If so, the hostility Ludwig was experiencing against himself was not merely because  
of his actions, but only the symptom of a disease that was slowly infecting the country he had known and loved.

He stood up, almost shaking with indignation. "All right, den," he said angrily, "if dat iss how dey feel about me, an' how _you _feel too, Dr. Vogel...an' if dey can think like dat Rolf an' his father, den I do not want ta stay here another day. I _am _resignin'!"

He was heading for the door when the director stood up and gently took his arm.

"Ludwig---wait."

The professor turned to him curiously, for this time Dr. Vogel's tone was different and his face concerned. And never at any time---until now---had he ever called Ludwig by his first name.

"Please sit down, Ludwig," the director insisted. The professor did so, watching as Dr. Vogel gave a cautious glance outside before sitting back down at his desk.

"Ludwig," he said in a low voice, "you may think that I've become your enemy, but I haven't. In fact, you will look back on this meeting and come to feel I was one of the few real friends you had in this place.

"You've read the papers and listened to the radio," he went on. "You know what's happening in Germany and elsewhere, and you can see signs that things are changing even here. But the change will not merely come from our neighbor in the north, Ludwig; it will also come from within. If Hitler succeeds in swaying our nation, it will be because those who believed his words _allowed _him to do so."

"I can believe dat…already it iss happenin'," the professor said unhappily.

"Then you must understand that I am actually trying to help you, Ludwig," Dr. Vogel said sadly."I have known you for many years; you have always been a good man and an excellent instructor,and you have been faithful to the ideals the University has long stood for. And that is why,  
in the face of all that is happening, the University will no longer hold a place for you. It is also why I would strongly suggest that you and Frau  
Von Drake leave the country as well."

Ludwig was aghast. "Leave da _country_?"

"In some years---perhaps less---this will no longer be the Austria you knew and loved. The trouble you had with Rolf Schweiner was only  
the beginning...truly, men of knowledge and culture, men of great heart and spirit, will be considered weak and worthless in the eyes of  
the 'New Order'. And in their eyes also, Ludwig, you for one will be considered a traitor.

"It is out of my respect and regard for you," Dr. Vogel finished as Ludwig stared at him in disbelief, "that I am warning you of what is  
happening. You and Frau Von Drake had best sell your house and find some more peaceful place to go to, far away from this madness.  
Leave now, Ludwig, while there is still time."

As Ludwig absorbed the whole speech, he shut his eyes and nodded solemnly, finally understanding what Dr. Vogel was trying to do.

"All right, den…I do not know where we will go, but I will think of somewheres."

"Good luck, then." Dr. Vogel shook his hand kindly. "My best to Frau Von Drake as well. And thank you for your years of service, Ludwig…  
the University won't be the same without you."

* * *

Matilda was shocked and saddened at the news of Ludwig's resignation and the prospect ofhaving to leave the beautiful country which had so shortly become her home. But true to her McDuck shrewdness, she had sensed for some time the winds of change in her husband's homeland, and noted the growing unfriendliness towards him. Believing as well that things might only get worse for Ludwig and perhaps herself, she agreed that leaving the country was the best solution.

"But where can we go?" she asked. "Where would we be safe?"

"Switzerland, maybes? Or back ta da States?" the professor suggested.

Yet Matilda seemed uncertain about going back to America, even though she had been reluctant to leave it on the night of their proposal. Ludwig understood why; for some time he had noticed her looking at old photographs of her native Scotland with a certain wistfulness, and often heard her remarking how much the Alps reminded her of the Highlands, which he knew she missed. It would also be easier and less costly, he pondered, to go someplace further north of Europe…and it did his heart good to see the light in Matilda's eyes when he asked her if she would like to return to _her _native country for a change.

* * *

After an appropriate last meal at the Sacher, with a small _Sachertorte _presented to them as a farewell gift by a weeping Greta (who, to Ludwig's embarrassment and Matilda's amusement, insisted on kissing the professor full on the beak), the Von Drakes went off to board their train. Each of the pair had his or her own thoughts as they looked out the window at the lovely country that had once been their home, with a silent prayer that somehow it might be kept safe.

"Remember when you and I said goodbye at this station after we first met?" Matilda asked gently. Ludwig smiled tenderly as he remembered that parting.

"_Ja. _I was so sad ta see you go, _Liebchen_...an' now, here we are, together."

"And I'll stay right by your side, darling," she assured him, "no matter where we have to go."

She kissed him gently, and Ludwig gave one last look out the window at the Austria that he had loved so; the land of Mozart, the land of his ancestors…and now, a land that would need every prayer that Heaven might answer. When the train began to move, the professor closed  
the blind and turned away.

This time, he was the one headed for a country strange to him; this time, _he _would be the foreigner, having to adjust to a land, language and customs so widely different from his own. But as the train rattled on through the Austrian night, Ludwig felt Matilda squeeze his hand…and he smiled at last knowing that no matter what happened in the future, at least he would not have to face it alone.

* * *

_**  
End Chapter VIII**_

_**---  
**_

_Historical Note: _By the events of the previous chapters, the National Socialist Party had long been underway in Germany (though Adolf Hitler did not become dictator until 1934). The movement had gradually been taking root in Austria at that time, but not until the _Anschluss _in 1938 did that country become an actual part of the Nazi regime. Also, while Austria had no official policy of anti-Semitism until the late 1930s, hate crimes against the Jews were already taking place---and history tells us of the final and tragic outcome.

____________________________________________________________

I'm afraid this had to be a rush job at the end, but I hope you all found this chapter worth the wait! But please do _not _pressure me for updates, because I'm afraid they'll be a very long time in coming. As some of you are aware, a whole load of personal "junk" has been going down in my life lately, and right now I don't know where _my _life path is going to lead. Hopefully things will soon get back to at least semi-normal for me and get me back in the game. Until then, thanks so much for your support, faithful readers! ---_LuvvyDuck_


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